


A rehearsed preamble to inevitable orgasms

by LongLastingForevermore



Category: GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: 'cause the author is weak, (or at least an attempt at it), A little bit of angst, Alternate Universe - College/University, Crack, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Some cameos, Strangers to Lovers, here we GO BISH, implied/referenced yoonseok, mostly crack tho, oh well, rap line are best friend goals, sometimes it goes deeper than intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-11-07 18:31:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 31,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11064708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LongLastingForevermore/pseuds/LongLastingForevermore
Summary: It’s /not/ a matter of fate when you keep walking (literally) into your latest one-night-stand, no matter how many clichés are based around that fact. It’s a matter of shitty, shitty luck - as uncomplicated as that. Kim Namjoon, unfortunately, has to experience this first-hand.





	1. The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flokatae (wolfi_sama)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfi_sama/gifts).



There’s something oddly cathartic about quietly scavenging an unknown room for your misplaced belongings when it’s close to 2 in the afternoon, Namjoon thinks, as he does just so. He’s a blur of abandoned thoughts and he can taste the dried alcohol in the back of his throat. He’s a little hazy, body sore in that pleasant way he only feels when he’s gotten laid.

He spares a glance towards the unmade bed, sideways grin on his mouth while he stretches his eyes over the nice expanse of smooth skin that isn’t covered by sheets. He likes the way the guy’s shoulders look, the firmness of his back and Namjoon has to muffle a snort at the raw, red marks here and there on the boy’s back. He did that to him. And that tightness in his belly, the way he’s sore and satisfied all at once – the other guy did that to him.

Adjusting his leather belt, Namjoon ponders about how many people know about his last night’s shenanigans, and wonders if, perhaps, he should avoid alcohol altogether until his body is cleansed of sins. But then again, he reasons as he pockets his phone, that would take way too much time, so Namjoon will just have to roll with the punches in the purely hypothetical situation that there _might be_ punches to roll with, if at all.

As he leaves the room, Namjoon doesn’t look back. He’s trying his best to look as composed as possible, and for a fleeting moment he dares to hope his escapade will go completely unnoticed by the world. Alas, it’s just his luck as he tiptoes into the living room to fetch his shoes when he almost runs into a slender guy sporting the most impressive case of bedhead Namjoon has ever had the honour of beholding.

“Good morning,” the stranger says, amused, while his eyes languidly study Namjoon from head to toe. “Or, well, good afternoon, I guess. It’s past noon already.”

“Good afternoon,” answers Namjoon politely, mentally high-fiving himself for sounding as composed as he does, although he still hasn’t quite puzzled together the events of last night – a difficult feat, seen as the littering of black holes in his memory doesn’t seem to decrease with the minutes he’s awake and sober.

“Would you care for a cup of coffee?” the stranger asks after a couple of seconds of awkward silence. “Or do you, uhm, want to keep the time you spend here to a minimum?”

“I’d love to,” answers Namjoon honestly, but then he shrugs his shoulders apologetically, fingers fiddling nervously with the hem of his hoodie. “But I gotta go, ‘cause it’s a little bit later than I thought I’d be getting home, and...”

The stranger nods, a sympathetic smile on his face. “Gotcha. I’ll see you around campus, then.”

Namjoon blanches a little bit, and nods, humming non-committedly.

As soon as he’s out the door, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and texts his roommates:

 

**_Chat: Loser Line 2.0_ **

**GoD:** Does it still count as a Walk Of Shame™ if it’s 2PM

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : did u fall asleep in the library agian lmaooooo dude i told u libraries on friday nights r a ba d idea

 **GoD** : Why would you assume I fell asleep in the fucking library

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : obvs cuz its more believable tahn the alternative

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : DUH ( ͡• ͜ʖ ͡•)

 **GoD** : Shut the hell your mouth

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : SEE

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : if ud gotten laid u wouldnt be so salty (⇀ ↼‶)

 **Yoongenius™** : did someone summon me

 **Yoongenius™** : oh lol drag him, seok

 **Yoongenius™** : anyhow, did you or didn’t you get some dicking

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : hyung, my sweet innocent hyugn

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : joon is a virgin if ive ever seen 1

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : so teh answer is nah

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : ☆⌒(ゝ。∂)

 **Yoongenius™** : seok-ah

 **Yoongenius™** : why are you so convinced joon is a virgin

 **GoD** : Yeah, please enlighten us

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : dont gang up on me you heathens

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : & i mean,,,,, isnt it obvs

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : joon issa genius & no1 is denying that

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : but hes also sorta lost in his head

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : ive seen him get hit on & be completely OBLIVIOUS abt it

 **Yoongenius™** : seok…

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : so rlly, joon, how can u be at the top of ur class & this stoopid simultaneously

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : gotchu there didnt i

 **Yoongenius™** : seok

 **Yoongenius™** : not to burst your bubble, but joonie has the most savage skills in swerving people he’s not interested in

 **Yoongenius™** : like

 **Yoongenius™** : mad skills, really

 **GoD** : Thank you, hyung

 **Yoongenius™** : you’re still as dense as pudding when it comes to other things, dude

 **Yoongenius™** : ngl

 **GoD** : ANYHOW

 **GoD** : Which of you douchecanoes is at home

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : dont tell me, u lost ur keys

 **GoD** : I may have lost my keys last night

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : AGIAIN?

 **Yoongenius™** : how do you sound surprised, seok

 **Yoongenius™** : i’m at the studio, so i’ll be home late

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : lmaoooo im home doe

 **GoD** : Alright, I’ll be there in 15

 **GoD** : If not, read this again


	2. Or, alternatively, the one where things could've been better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because, really, that is all it takes to cement Namjoon’s long-running suspicion that the universe hates his guts and just wants to watch him suffer

Half an hour later, Namjoon enters – or, well, stumbles into – the small but cosy flat he shares with Hoseok and Yoongi, feeling as messy as he’s sure he looks. After all, even though he’s virtually immune to hangovers (“ _It just doesn’t make any sense,”_ complains Hoseok each time they go out for drinks _, “dude’s able to outdrink literally_ everyone _I know, and he doesn’t even get hangovers? That’s just entirely unfair, goddammit –” “Seok-ah,”_ Yoongi always ends up interrupting him _. “Suck it up and enjoy your fucking beer, you twat._ ”), he’s gotten laid after a long night of clubbing to celebrate the end of what was already a very draining workweek.

“I’m home!” he reports as soon as he closes the door behind his back, careful not to slam it too hard. He kicks his shoes off, and groans when he realizes there’s a hole in one of his socks. Cursing softly in Spanish, he makes his way to the living room, where he finds Hoseok sprawled onto the couch wearing nothing but one single sock and a pair of orange cut-off sweats.

“Hi there, you absolute slag,” grins Hoseok, wiggling his sharp eyebrows wickedly as soon as he sees Namjoon. “Keeping secrets from me, really… I’m disappointed and a little hurt, Joonie.”

“Don’t expect me to lose any sleep over it, mate,” Namjoon snorts, rolling his eyes. “You know, I almost preferred when you so naively thought I was a virgin and mocked what you thought was my non-existent love-life, dude,” complains Namjoon, walking straight to the bathroom to take a shower – completely ignoring the fond “ _dick_ ” Hoseok throws his way -, feeling sweaty and messy and not at all like someone who has their life together, as he sometimes (“ _erroneously_ ”, would pipe Yoongi in) likes to believe he looks. He’s just eager to wash away the stickiness and sweat, and perhaps eat something to quiet down the growling sounds his tummy has been making repetitiously since he stepped outside his one-night-stand’s flat.

Under the scalding water, he allows his mind to wander back to last night. He remembers strong hands with long fingers grabbing his shoulders; golden skin, hot to the touch, so soft under his fingertips; sharp hipbones where he’d left dark bruises with his lips and teeth, kissing them afterwards to soothe the tender spots; strong thighs bracketing his head, hard muscle so supple when he pressed his nails into them, small half-moons a sure souvenir of a satisfying night.

Because it _has_ been a very satisfying night, he has to admit to himself, way more than expected. One-night-stands are fun, nobody is denying that fact, but it usually takes Namjoon a partner that knows him more intimately to orgasm as hard as he has last night. There’s a firm difference there, where a steady partner has had time to explore and investigate and experiment your body to perfect ways of pushing you to the edge – after all, ‘ _practice makes perfection_ ’ isn’t just said just because, and has a very solid logic supporting its statement. But last night…

A short but firm shake of his head, and Namjoon manages to clear his thoughts, repressing a shudder that threatens to jolt up and down his spine. He has allowed his mind to stray far enough, so he rinses the shampoo off and twists the tap closed, blindly searching for his towel just outside the shower cabin. Once dry and with his towel safely secured around his hips, he steps into the corridor, ignoring the thick cloud of steam that escapes the small bathroom at the same time he does (“ _really, Joon-ah, you should stop trying to boil yourself alive in the shower, it can’t possibly be_ healthy-” “ _but, hyung! I like it!_ ”).

He dresses quickly and, feeling like a decent human being again, Namjoon ventures into the kitchen, desperate for something to eat. He finds Hoseok perched upon the counter, eating cereal with a _soup ladle_ (for fuck’s sake, the bastard’s probably too damn lazy to clean one of the countless normal spoons that have been carelessly thrown into their already overflowing sink) and nodding his head to the beat of an upbeat Ska song coming from his laptop that has been carefully placed next to him.

“Is there anything edible that doesn’t demand time preparing it,” mutters Namjoon, opening the fridge. “How the _fuck_ is there only beer and carrots in this fucking house, I swear to god me and Yoongi-hyung went to the supermarket to restock this fucking fridge like Monday, what the _fuck_.”

“Tough luck,” answers Hoseok around a mouthful of cereal, drops of milk dribbling down his chin. “I ate the last bit of cereal, too.” He looks a bit sheepish about that revelation, but not at all like he’s feeling guilty about leaving his best friend to _starve_ , for god’s sake. More like he’s enjoying his cereal even more now that he has the knowledge that it could’ve been him, hungry, standing in the middle of the kitchen without proper food.

“I’m a good person, generally, most of the time,” complains Namjoon, closing the fridge with a little too much force and ignoring the way his flatmate cringes in fear of the fridgedoor falling off its hinges (it wouldn’t be the first time). “I don’t deserve this.”

***

Namjoon still stands by his previous statement that he doesn’t deserve this when he finds himself standing in the middle of the dairy isle, hopelessly lost as he struggles to pick between two different types of milk that look exactly the same except they _aren’t_ the same, and the fact that he can feel a headache creeping up on him doesn’t make Namjoon’s mood any better. His eyes shift from one of the cartons to the other, back and forth, back and forth.

His distress must be palpable in the air around him (or, just maybe, what gives away his inner battle is the way his eyebrows are pushed together in a straight line above his eyes), because he suddenly feels a light tap on his shoulder and hears a voice behind him that takes him completely by surprise because there’s no way in _hell_ such a shrill sound would’ve escaped his throat otherwise.

(Right there and then, Namjoon decides that he’s never – ever – telling his friends about this particular accident, because they’re exactly the annoying type of assholes who’d never let him hear the last of it. They’re the worst. Namjoon loves them to bits).

“Hey, you look like you could use some help,” a cheery voice chirps behind Namjoon, and if anyone were to ask afterwards, he’d swear that his soul left his body through his knees, that his stomach dropped all the way to his feet, and that every deity that could possibly exist was rolling on the floor laughing at his pathetic life and his shitty, shitty luck.

Because, really, that is all it takes to cement Namjoon’s long-running suspicion that the universe hates his guts and just wants to watch him _suffer_. He can’t think any other reason why, when he turns around, his body heavy with dread, he finds himself in front of his one-night-stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holla @ me about Namson on Twitter @yellingukelele


	3. A short introduction to The Fam™

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the chapter's title says: A short introduction to The Fam™

“Wait, wait, run that by me again,” repeats Yoongi slowly for the nth time, his hand covering Hoseok’s mouth in a feeble but admirable attempt to muffle his loud cackles – that traitor. “So you just left him hanging there?”

Namjoon groans deeply from where he’s sprawled face-down on the floor in a mess of long limbs and self-pity. “No, hyung, I deadass told him I left the stove on and _then_ I left him hanging there.”

“Ran like a bat out of hell,” manages to wheeze Hoseok, having successfully pried Yoongi’s fingers away from his mouth. “Oh, _god_ , I wish I could’ve witnessed that, holy _shit_ -”

“Seok-ah, shut up for a couple of minutes, will you, Joon is having a meltdown here,” complains Yoongi, pushing Hoseok softly – much softer than he’d push anyone else, Namjoon included – and looking concerned at the whining heap that is currently their youngest roommate. “Joonie, I think you’re blowing this entire situation out of proportion. I mean, do you even think he recognized you at all?”

Namjoon stops his groaning and slowly lifts his head up, a contemplative look on his face. And then, a tentative smile curls his lips, and he brightens up visibly, clearly mulling over the suggestion.

“You know what, hyung, I think you’re right,” he answers finally, pushing himself off the floor to sit upright. “After all, we don’t even know each other’s name, and I hadn’t seen him around campus before yesterday, so all’s well!”

Yoongi similes too, looking relieved at the sudden mood improvement, but Hoseok frowns deeply, tapping a slender finger against his lips.

“What do you mean you didn’t get his name last night, you were with him for fucking hours, dude,” Hoseok says, confused.

“I didn’t get his name, you fucking cock,” Namjoon grunts, “because it was just a one-night-stand, a casual shag we both needed. It didn’t mean a thing, except that we were physically attracted to each other.”

“Oh, sure. Because that’s brilliant,” Hoseok deadpans, dryly. He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m sure it’ll be _so_ easy to find ‘dude from who knows where and also he’s got no name’ so you can see him again. Good job, Joon-ah.”

“I’m not trying to see him again though, so.”

Hoseok is already opening his mouth to protest – in a loud and lengthy manner, for sure - when Yoongi claps his hands once, standing up from where he was sitting on the unmade bed, and successfully interrupting the quibbling boys.

“Well, that’s neatly settled then,” he announces, a bit too cheerfully. “You owe us takeaway, Joon-ah, so I’ll call for pizza.”

“Why?” exclaims Namjoon, offended. “I mean, pizza is a-okay, pizza is a very good idea indeed, but. Why do _I_ have to pay, hyung?”

“Because _you’re_ the one who abandoned the perfectly full basket of groceries in the middle of the dairy isle when you ran into your one-night-stand,” mocks Hoseok, throwing a pillow at the youngster. “So yeah, you owe us because you were too much of an idiot to simply act like you hadn’t seen the dude in your life and get on with the fucking grocery shopping.”

“Lies and slander!” screams Namjoon, just barely dodging the pillow thrown at him. “I was- huh, I actually hadn’t thought about _that_.”

“Exactly,” agrees Yoongi smugly.

“So if you love us at _least_ a little bit, you won’t want us to starve. Do you want us to starve, Joonie?” Leave it to Hoseok to add a little bit of theatricality to make Namjoon feel slightly guiltier about the forgotten grocery basket, so with a defeated sigh, he finally nods in agreement.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I’ll pay. I’d like the veggie one, please, while you’re at it, hyung,” he mutters, still recovering from his mild crisis on the floor. He can’t believe he hadn’t thought about simply acting like he hadn’t recognized the dude, and he feels sort of very stupid, really. Or, as his friends have previously so perfectly worded, _dense_.

It’s not a nice feeling.

******

When the doorbell finally rings, loud and clear in the unusual quiet of the apartment – it’s amazing what hunger does to three grown-ass men -, Namjoon is all but pushed towards the door by an overly-enthusiastic Hoseok.

Grumbling slightly, Namjoon opens the door only to find himself face-to-face with an unknown man that’s holding a bottle of what looks like _good_ French wine, and has an easy-going smile on his handsome face. It takes a couple of seconds before either can speak, taking in each-other’s appearance with surprise clearly written on their faces.

“Hello,” the stranger finally manages to say lightly, his smiling widening slightly. “I’m your new neighbour, Seokjin?” The end of his sentence turns into a question when Hoseok barrels full-speed into Namjoon, having slipped on the parquet with his socks when he wanted to check what was taking so long.

“Delighted to – _ugh_ \- meet you,” groans Namjoon from the pile of tangled limbs and pained whines that now are his and Hoseok’s bodies. “I’m Namjoon – _Hobi, for Christ’s sake, those are my fucking balls your elbow is digging into_ –, and I swear we’re – _dude_ \- usually not like this! I’m so – _fuck, shit, fuck_ \- sorry you have to – _ow_ \- witness this.”

“You guys are truly a disgrace and an embarrassment to the entirety of the human race,” observes Yoongi, quietly walking towards the door and easily sidestepping his fallen flatmates, used to their antics. He stands in front of Seokjin and extends his hand for a handshake, completely ignoring the offended yells from the human disasters still sprawled on the floor. “I’m Yoongi, alas the only adult of this household.”

Their neighbour is very clearly on the brink of losing the battle against the urge to burst out into a fit of laughter, and his eyes twinkle prettily with mirth as he extends his hand too to shake Yoongi’s. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Seokjin, and I just moved nextdoor’s with a friend.”

It takes a minute, but then Namjoon and Hoseok are standing on their legs again, the latter grinning sunnily at their new neighbour. “Wanna come in? We ordered pizza, and Yoongi-hyung went overboard and ordered enough to feed an entire army for a couple of days or us once if we’ve smoked-”

A sharp elbow to the ribs cuts him off before he can run his mouth and send Seokjin running to the hills in horror as he realizes what sort of nuthouse he’s gotten into, but then the handsome man smiles in amusement and nods. “I almost brought edibles as an introduction present, but I decided for wine instead, not wanting to give the wrong impression. My bad,” and he starts laughing. It’s not necessarily a pretty laugh, but it’s genuine and joyful and soon they’ve all joined him, delighted.

“Is it okay if my friend comes too?” Seokjin asks when they’ve all calmed down, a bright smile on his face. “He’s a bit shy, but I think you’ll like him.”

“Sure,” shrugs Yoongi, just as the delivery boy steps out of the lift into the corridor with several large boxes in his arms.

 

And that’s how Namjoon finds himself on his couch with a piece of pizza in his hand and a bellyache from laughing so hard, surrounded by his best friends and their new neighbours, and what had started as a strange day ends with a happy smile and an exchange of phone numbers.

****

******

**_Chat: Loser Line 2.0_ **

**_Yoongenius™_ ** **added _Kim Seokjin_ to the chat _Loser Line 2.0_**

**_Kim Seokjin_ ** **added _Jeon Jeongguk_ to the chat _Loser Line 2.0_**

**_Kim Seokjin_ ** **changed their username to _SeokjinFTW_**

**it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : WHALECUM!!!!!!!!!!1!!

**GoD** : For fuck’s sake, Hobi, keep it in your pants

**it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : xcuse me?

**Yoongenius™** : don’t mind these idiots, hyung

**Yoongenius™** : welcome to the nuthouse

**SeokjinFTW** : thanks lmao

**SeokjinFTW** : this is gon be a wild ride

**_SeokjinFTW_ ** **changed _Jeon Jeongguk_ ’s username to _MemeChild_ **

**GoD** : I demand new friends

**it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : suht up

**SeokjinFTW** : shut up

**Yoongenius™** : shut up

**Yoongenius™** : god, this is gonna work out great

**Yoongenius™** : i already like you, hyung

**SeokjinFTW** : thank u

**GoD** : GODDAMMIT

**GoD** : IT’S WEDNESDAY

**GoD** : NOT GANG‑UP-ON-NAMJOON-DAY

**Yoongenius™** : everyday is gang-up-on-namjoon-day

**Yoongenius™** : i should know

**Yoongenius™** : i invented them

**it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : (╭☞´ิ∀´ิ)╭☞

**MemeChild** : hi

**it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : GUKKIE!!!!!!!!!

**MemeChild** : bye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Jackson cameo in this chapter, sorry! I wanted to introduce the Dudes™ into the story :)


	4. Also known as Encounters of the Unfortunate Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s let himself be lulled into a false sense of security and now this wake-up call brings him back into reality, where he remembers the universe is still totally out to get him

The universe must be in a particularly gracious and benevolent mood, because somehow Namjoon survives another week without serious altercations of any kind (if you exclude the incident with the spilled soy sauce on the back of the couch and, okay, Namjoon is _not_ a religious man, but he’s been _praying_ Yoongi never finds out about this, because he appreciates his body in one piece and he’s sure Yoongi wouldn’t hesitate in defenestrating him if he knew or even suspected anything of the sort). Anyhow, life’s been good, and Namjoon is in a superb mood when he steps outside his flat on a sunny – albeit cold – Friday morning in September. He’s not even in a rush, which is a surprise to literally everyone and their mother, and he decides that as a reward for being a functioning adult he’s going to treat himself to a warm cup of coffee even though he feels rested and awake and really doesn’t need the rush of caffeine to get through his Spanish Literature class.

The thing is that, as eventually happens with all good things in this world, Namjoon’s luck doesn’t last. It’s sort of his own fault, really, and Yoongi has told him numerous time that he should look where he’s going when he’s walking on the street because _really, Joonie, it’s totally okay to have your head in the clouds occasionally but please look where you’re going or one day you’re going to get yourself killed by casually walking in front of a bus and I simply don’t have the money to organize your entire fucking funeral, do you even know how much those cost?_

Anyhow, it all comes down to the fact that it’s partially (but not entirely) Namjoon’s fault because he’s so deeply immersed in his own thoughts, happily sipping his still steaming Americano while internally having a full-fledged debate about the utility of pants in general (in which he defends both sides of the discussion because he’s _bored_ , that’s why), that he doesn’t notice the person sprinting around the corner as if the devil himself is on their heels until it’s too late.

All things considered, he should’ve seen it coming from _miles_ (maybe not specifically the person, per se, but more like, the situation in general, you know), because he’s been foolish and naïve and has let his guard down. He’s let himself be lulled into a false sense of security and now this cruel wake-up call brings him back into reality, where he remembers the universe is _still_ totally out to get him, and for a millisecond he’s amused at his own inflated sense of self-importance (like the universe would actually consider him important enough for such a thing). A hard body slams into him, sending him falling to the ground while the lidless, almost full cup of coffee spills over his favourite black coat and his hand and _fuck_ if that doesn’t burn.

“Jesus fucking Christ on a bike,” he curses softly in English, wincing as he waves his hand repeatedly, trying to sooth the sharp pain. It seems he’s more often on the ground than on his feet, these days. “This burns like a _motherfucker_ –”

“Oh my God, I’m _so_ sorry,” yells the person responsible for his current position on the hard pavement, also speaking in English. “I didn’t look where I was going and I didn’t expect anyone to – hey, it’s _you!_ ”

Dread fills Namjoon as he lifts his eyes from his ruined coat and his now-pink hand to look into the same twinkling eyes that had seemed so alluring last Friday night at the club, and he has to supress a frustrated groan because they’re still very pretty and very fucking alluring, much alike the rest of the face around them (and the body that face is part of, but Namjoon currently has other more pressing issues to take care of so he forces himself to get his mind out of the gutter and resist the temptation of checking out the hot male in front of him, currently looking at him with his mouth slightly open in surprise, and _really_ , it would look extremely stupid on anyone else but this bastard somehow only looks endearing and _fuck_ -).

Where’s a good earth-opening to swallow him whole when he needs it the most?

“I’m really sorry, man,” his one-night-stand repeats, less frantically this time, and offers him a hand to haul him upright once again, an apologetic smile on his lips. “It wasn’t my intention –”

“No, no, it’s not that bad,” Namjoon manages to reply smoothly, and _wow_ if he isn’t proud that his voice doesn’t come out as a croak. “It was also sort of my fault anyways, you know, because I wasn’t really looking where I was going…”

Back again on his feet, he looks sheepishly at the now empty cup in his hands and he sighs, feeling defeated. So much for treating himself to a nice cup of coffee… He wipes his hand dry on his coat, seen as it’s already dirty and he’s going to have to take it to the dry-cleaner anyways (it’s an expensive garment), and winces when the dull ache shoots up to his elbow in a sharp bolt of pain.

His pained hiss doesn’t go unnoticed, and the other boy (man? Namjoon is confused) extends a tentative hand as if to steady Namjoon, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay?” he asks unsure, for some reason or another still speaking in English, an accent Namjoon can’t pinpoint with certainty stretching his vowels lightly in a charming way.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be alright, don’t worry,” Namjoon hides his injured hand in his pocket, not wanting the other to cause a scene or anything along those lines, after checking the time on his wristwatch and internally congratulating himself on leaving his flat with time to spare, because now he’s going to have to walk a bit faster than usual, but at least he doesn’t have to run to get to the classroom on time. “I gotta blast, dude. Bye!”

He doesn’t really give the other guy a chance to say anything before he’s already speed-walking away, wondering if slapping himself repeatedly in the face will make him less of an idiot. He briefly considers it: that’s twice already that he’s made a fool of himself in front of the guy, and he almost can’t believe they’ve run into each other already three times in the span of one single week, because before that, they hadn’t seen each other on campus in the three years Namjoon’s been attending university.

Fortunately, he arrives in class with a couple of minutes to spare, so he drops himself in his usual seat and grabs his phone from his pocket, ready to tell his friends about his unfortunate encounter.

******

**_Chat: Loser Line 2.0_ **

**GoD** : The universe hates me with a passion

 **SeokjinFTW** : how so,?

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : yeeh dude elllaborate

 **MemeChild** : Are you OK, hyung?

 **GoD** : Whoa, you guys really have nothing to do

 **GoD** : Anyhow

 **GoD** : Guess who I /literally/ ran into

 **GoD** : LITERALLY

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : HAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : RE U FORREAL

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : U HAVE TEH WORST LUCK IN THIS PLANETT

 **SeokjinFTW** : i dont follow

 **MemeChild** : Same ^^^^^

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : DID U RLLY RUN INTO UR ONE NIGHT STAND

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : WHAT R THE ODDS

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : WAIT TILL YOONGS HEARS IT

 **Yoongenius™** : that’s yoongi-hyung* to you, brat

 **Yoongenius™** : wait

 **Yoongenius™** : i just read what happened

 **Yoongenius™** : joon, the universe hates you

 **SeokjinFTW** : mebbe it’s meant to be???????

 **SeokjinFTW** : ask his #

 **SeokjinFTW** : get that D

 **MemeChild** : What did you say to him?

 **GoD** : ,,,,,,,,

 **GoD** : I may have or may not have

 **GoD** : Said,,,,

 **GoD** : “GOTTA BLAST”

 **GoD** : I hate myself

 **SeokjinFTW** : i feel bad for laughing, but Joon, wHAT THE FUCKKKK

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : I DONTT FEEL BAD HAHAHHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : UR SO LAME I LUV U SO MUCH DUDE

 **Yoongenius™** : you can’t see it but my eyes rolled so far back i could see a couple of brain cells dying of second-hand embarrassment

 **MemeChild** :…

 **MemeChild** : What’s wrong with saying that???

 **MemeChild** : IDGI????

 **SeokjinFTW** : oh my sweet summer child

 **SeokjinFTW** : i’ll tell u wjen u grow up

 **MemeChild** : If you were anyone else, hyung, I’d tell you to fuck off

 **GoD** : Gukkie, you’re my favourite and I love you and you’ve just made yourself sole heir to my inheritance

 **MemeChild** : ♥

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : BUT JOONIE I THHOUGHT I WAS UR FAVE

 **MemeChild** : Step down, hyung, there’s a new King in town

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : NOO I REFUSE

 **GoD** : I’m in class and my professor has been looking weird at me so imma hide my phone now

 **GoD** : Bye! Talk to you later

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : TIHS ISNT OVER

 **it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT** : COME BAKC

 **Yoongenius™** : GOTTA BLAST

 **SeokjinFTW** : LMAOOOO

 **GoD** : I hate all of y’all

 **GoD** : Except for you, Gukkie

 **GoD** : ♥

 **MemeChild** : ♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, jackson! Poor bby, just trying to strike an actual conversation with joonie, but the universe is playing its cards well hehehe


	5. Raincheck?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late night - or is it early morning? - walk turns out differently than expected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry for not posting this sooner! i was on a holiday and italy and chose to not bring my laptop along, so i couldn't write the entire trip~

Saying Namjoon is on edge the following days is, perhaps, _the_ understatement of the year. There are a few universal truths known to be true all around the galaxy: the sky is blue most of the time (if only for the way molecules in the air scatter blue light from the sun), grass is green because of chlorophyll (this one is more relative, if you ask him, because dry grass is yellow and beige, and definitely _not_ green, but he guesses it’s all about context), Hoseok’s smile is the brightest thing Namjoon has ever seen (this one is undisputable), the earth rotates around the sun, Seoul is the capital of South Korea, and Namjoon is on _fucking_ edge.

It’s not very noticeable, to be quite truthful, but it’s definitely there: he’s more jittery than usual, not necessarily snappy but definitely uneasy, kind of unnerved, a bit too keen on taking every possible and improbable opportunity to skip class (which is in itself so unusual even Jeongguk, ever so oblivious, asks concerned if he’s okay while Namjoon gets his ass kicked playing Overwatch with him in a desperate attempt to help the kid with his complete and utter lack of motivation when it comes to learning English).

Instead, he spends his time watching movies, but this doesn’t help smoothing out his mood. The movies he likes are not realistic at all, is the thing. Nobody in real life bickers and banters as smoothly as that. Nobody in real life has such a firm grasp on wordplay and verbal trickery, has such an affinity for subtext to conceal or contain or contrast the underlying truth that lies within words. (With subtext, doesn’t even consider the awful literary way where both people are talking in a mutually thinly veiled metaphor that’s basically just a code). Deep inside, Namjoon wishes he could be that put-together, wishes that he was wittier and that he could use his words to attack and to dig, to dodge and to parry, going straight for the heart when it’s meant to.

3 AM strikes and, with it, a headache like a solid brick wall that Namjoon’s thoughts have to fight their way through before he can entertain them. Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t stepped outside the flat in almost 96 hours, or the sudden need to smoke something to drag out of his lungs this feeling that assaults him out of the blue, but Namjoon rolls out of bed. Throwing on the first hoodie he can get his hands on – which coincidentally is his favourite, a black and somewhat velvety case -, discards the idea of actually putting on jeans and instead opts to keep his flannel PJ pants on, merely searching his drawer for thicker socks so he can wear his combat boots without risking them falling off. And so, taking his wallet (in case he gets hungry or anything), his keys (to get back inside without waking his flatmates up), and his carton of cigarettes he keeps for similar situations (this one is, well, self-explanatory), he leaves his room.

Fortune seems to pity him briefly and walks over to his side, because he manages to sneak out of the flat without tripping over his own feet or accidentally slamming the door too loudly, successfully letting his hyungs sleep on peacefully.

Once outside, he takes a deep breath, wincing when a burst of dizziness hits him and he has to lean against the brick wall to steady himself. It takes a couple of minutes, but the cold air helps clearing his head, and he feels considerably better after lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply, feeling the nicotine making its way through his veins.

When he finishes his first cigarette, Namjoon starts walking aimlessly through the unlit streets, letting his thoughts loose so they can run rampant ahead of him. Occasionally he allows himself to follow briefly a train of thought, but as soon as he stumbles upon something that could cause his headache to worsen – which roughly translates into “everything that is more complex than basic knowledge”, under which fall topics like that one conspiracy theory documentary Hoseok showed him a week ago (about the UFO sightings in Australia), or contemplating the sheer improbability of running into the same person twice while on a holiday in Europe – he backpedals and seeks for another, more interesting idea.

4 AM finds him sitting on a bench, hands in his pockets and cigarette dangling from his fingertips, immersed in his own thoughts.

“What are the odds,” slurs someone suddenly in English, plopping down on the bench next to him and successfully pulling Namjoon away from deciding if calculating the probability of something automatically makes it more probable or not. “What are the _fucking_ odds, man.”

What are the odds indeed. Sitting beside him, clearly drunk off his ass, is no other than his one-night-stand in all his gorgeous glory, wearing a shirt that’s way too flimsy for this weather but _fuck_ , does it make his arms look good. Internally accepting that the Universe definitely wants him to talk to this person, Namjoon says the most intelligent thing that comes to his mind that very moment:

“What?” _way to go, buddy, who needs a high IQ when you’re as dumb as you_.

“Exactly,” the guy agrees cheerfully.

“No, no, you got me wrong, I meant ‘what’ as in… ‘What are you talking about?’”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says.

The guy is quick in regaining his composure. “Boy, you won’t believe how happy I am to see you.” He slaps Namjoon’s back once as if to put emphasis on his statement just as Namjoon is about to take another drag of his cigarette.

“How so?”

“I am drunk,” he whispers as if it wasn’t obvious.

“I… could see that.”

“I am only a little drunk,” continues the guy, ignoring Namjoon. “And I forgot how to speak Korean.”

“Oh.”

“So you’re a godsend, dude,” the other guy says very seriously, leaning his head on Namjoon’s shoulder. “‘Cause I don’t know many people on campus who actually speak English, and you are, by far, lemme tell you that, the bestest looking of the bunch.”

“…what have my looks have to do with anything.”

“I’m also very horny,” admits the guy without batting an eyelash.

“Ah.”

 “So, yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna fuck?”

Namjoon chokes out a surprised cough at that, almost dropping his cigarette on the ground. As it turns out, it’s not a joke, so, pensively, he takes a long drag, his eyes fixed on the guy’s. He doesn’t break eye contact as he slowly exhales a load of blueish smoke into the chilly night, studying the expectant expression on the other’s face.

“You’re a bit too drunk for this,” he finally answers softly, and the other guy – Namjoon has decided to baptise him “Cheeky”, mainly because “Dude Who Has Apparently No Sense Of Shame Or At Least No Filter Whatsoever” is too long – lets out a small whine of disappointment. “But…”

“Yeah?” now there’s a hopeful glint in Cheeky’s pretty brown eyes.

“Raincheck on that?”

“Hell yeah,” Cheeky exhales, and promptly passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't smoke, kids


	6. Late Night Shanenigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does 4AM count as late as hell or as early as fuck?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's all welcome back the Loser Line groupchat, peeps

As it turns out, Cheeky doesn’t stay out of it for too long, and after waiting just long enough for Namjoon to actually assimilate what has happened and start building up a nervous breakdown of impressive calibre, he wakes up again. Namjoon has laid him down on the bench, and is currently hovering over Cheeky’s face internally seeking for an excuse to tell the police when they find him with a _fucking inert_ (very attractive) _body –_ godammit, he can’t do this, he’s way too pretty for jail, fucking cocksucking mother _fuckers_ , where is Yoongi “I-will-help-you-hide-a-body-only-once-in-your-miserable-life-you-massive-asshole-so-you-better-use-that-card-wisely-because-it-won’t-happen-twice” when you need him?

A hand suddenly reaches for Namjoon’s face, briefly booping one of his dimples before dropping to Cheeky’s side, successfully pulling him back onto the earth and away from any panic-induced hallucinations that might’ve been on their (very unwelcome) way. The other guy squints at him accusingly. “You look even prettier in real life than you do in my memories, if that’s fucking possible,” he hiccups, giggling slightly as he almost tips over in his attempts to focus his eyes on Namjoon’s face as he tries to sit upright. “But then again, you’re also, uh, wearing _way_ more clothes than I usually remember you with, so there’s that.”

Namjoon is rendered speechless, chocking out a surprised laugh.

“You know, it’s actually _all_ sorts of unfair for you to be as attractive as you are without giving me a chance to fucking touch you,” Cheeky says in a calm slurred voice, pouting childishly as his angled face is prettily illuminated by the faint moonlight. “Or to fuck you.” He then bursts into peals of delighted, infectious laughter, tipping over as his entire body shakes with mirth.

After his laughter dies away, fading into occasional chuckles, Cheeky makes an concentrated expression with his face and tries to stand up, failing rather miserably and making Namjoon have to muffle his laugh at the sight – he looks like a very attractive beetle stuck on its back, moving its (ridiculously well-muscled) limbs desperately in an attempt to regain its footing. Seriously, how many legs can someone even have, _fuck_ -

“I can’t get up,” is the statement Cheeky makes after a long moment of struggling against gravity. His pretty mouth turns into a pout, and he makes grabby-hands at Namjoon. “Help me, darling. Please.”

Rolling his eyes at the undeniable _absurdness_ of the entire situation, Namjoon does just so (grumbling under his breath that he doesn’t get paid enough for babysitting, but wait a minute, he actually isn’t getting paid at _all_ -), pulling the smaller man up and snaking an arm around his waist to prevent him from falling once again. A shiver creeps down his spine as Cheeky nuzzles into his neck, humming in satisfaction at their physical contact. “You smell good,” Cheeky mutters softly, lips tracing the words against tan, sweat-slick skin.

“Let’s get you home, shall we?” sighs Namjoon, pushing the man away so their only spot of contact is the arm he has wrapped around Cheeky’s waist to keep him upright. “Godammit, wait till I tell the hyungs about this…”

The task turns out to be – as many tasks ultimately are – easier said than done. Although the earth is relatively calm (as it fucking should), which means the ground doesn’t wobble or anything of the sort, the alcohol making its way through Cheeky’s bloodstream adds an unnecessary difficulty to the coordination of the man’s steps, and an amount of extra flair to his step Namjoon tries very hard to be immune to. The only reason both Cheeky and Namjoon don’t topple over at least once is – to put it bluntly - pure willpower from the latter. There is no other possible explanation on this planet that Namjoon can think of in the current situation, seen as the biggest part of him is busy focusing on _not_ falling over – he’s pretty good at that on his lonesome, thank you very much, so add to that the almost dead-weight from another human being with their motoric sense drowned away with all sorts of alcohol, and… well, Lord have mercy on their souls (…and their physical integrity).

It’s sort of ridiculous, really, the amount of times Cheeky end up tripping over his own two damn feet and Namjoon has to tighten the grip he has around his waist to press him closer to his own body. (There is though, safely hidden away in a remote corner of his mind, a small nagging suspicion that perhaps – just perhaps – Cheeky is doing it on purpose. A thought that is, by all means, bordering on absurd, seen the state of exaggerated drunkenness the man is currently in. It’s completely impossible Cheekt’s mind is clear enough to even think of something along those lines – especially judging by the state of his speech, that has at this point downgraded to a mess of incoherent blabbering and cheerful giggles. If that doesn’t prove the complete and utter massiveness of his inebriety, Namjoon doesn’t know what will).

After what feels like an eternity and a half, they finally step into the faintly lit lift that goes up to Namjoon’s flat, and Namjoon releases the breath he has been holding. (A few minutes ago, at the mere _thought_ of using the stairs, his soul had abandoned him promptly, and it had taken him 5 full minutes to calm down his hysterical laughter, all the while Cheeky watched him with stars in his eyes and a delighted smile on his ridiculously pink lips).

Thanking under his breath every deity listening for miraculously not having lost his keys, Namjoon opens slowly the door to the apartment, and pushes Cheeky inside, groaning softly when the smaller man begins to hum ANTI by Zico under his breath, adding a few dancesteps with his arms, what ultimately makes him like he’s an octopus trying (and failing) to slap flies away.

His patience worn thin, Namjoon unceremoniously drops Cheeky onto his large mattress, not even feeling slightly sorry when a muffled and perhaps somewhat pained “oomf” escapes the man as he falls face-first onto the bed.

“This shit only happens to me,” curses Namjoon softly, pulling Cheeky’s shoes off. “I could’ve run literally into _anybody_ else, but it just _had_ to be Cheeky, and he just _had_ to be drunk off his ass, what the absolute _fuck_.”

Still grumbling, he kicks off his own boots and lies himself down on his own bed, feeling a sudden wave of exhausting washing over him, and before he knows it, he’s out like a light.

 

 

In the course of the night, Cheeky cuddles up to him, wrapping all four limbs around Namjoon’s body and holding him close.

******

_[THE NEXT MORNING, AT AROUND NOON]_

**_Chat: Loser Line 2.0_ **

**SeokjinFTW** : did i just hear moaning and thumping from your flat

**SeokjinFTW** : what is going on

**SeokjinFTW** : guys

**SeokjinFTW** : should i be worried

**_Yoongenius™_ ** **changed _it’s hoBI not hoSTRAIGHT_ ’s username to _a bitch is crying and that bitch is SHOOKETH_**

**SeokjinFTW** : do i even wanna know what happened now

**a bitch is crying and that bitch is SHOOKETH** : NO

**Yoongenius™** : probably not

**SeokjinFTW** : sometimes i fucking worry about you guys

**Yoongenius™** : seok just found out the ugly way that joon earned his nickname with honours

**SeokjinFTW** : what does that even mean

**a bitch is crying and that bitch is SHOOKETH** : HOYL FCK!!!!!!!!!!DONT ASK HYNG

**MemeChild** : RIP Hobi-hyung

**Yoongenius™** : let him suffer, this will show him not to doubt me ever again

**SeokjinFTW** : well, damn

**SeokjinFTW** : just tell me, yoongichii

**Yoongenius™** : …

**Yoongenius™** : im going to,,,, ignore that

**Yoongenius™** : aNYHOW

**Yoongenius™** : joonie’s nickname on the chat is GoD

**MemeChild** : Kinda presumptuous, innit?

**a bitch is crying and that bitch is SHOOKETH:** kookie suht up and let hyung excplain

**Yoongenius™** : SO

**Yoongenius™** : it stands for “god of destruction”

**SeokjinFTW** : lmao

**SeokjinFTW** : fitting

**Yoongenius™** : more than you think, hyung

**Yoongenius™** : it’s a reference to

**a bitch is crying and that bitch is SHOOKETH:** LEMME TELL THEM

**Yoongenius™** : his

**a bitch is crying and that bitch is SHOOKETH:** DICC

**Yoongenius™** : dick

**SeokjinFTW** : …

**SeokjinFTW** : wait what

**MemeChild** : I didn’t sign up for this groupchat to talk about dicks

**SeokjinFTW** : shut up, you big crybaby, you totally did

**a bitch is crying and that bitch is SHOOKETH:** its part of life

**Yoongenius™** : basically, anyone who gets fucked by joon earns themselves a big congratulations for taking it like a champ

**SeokjinFTW** :… keep talking

**SeokjinFTW** : i’m interested

**SeokjinFTW** : how big are we talkin about

**a bitch is crying and that bitch is SHOOKETH:** VERY

**MemeChild** : Uhm

**MemeChild** : Very interesting and all

**MemeChild** : But what has this to do with the sounds?

**Yoongenius™** : oh, that

**Yoongenius™** : somebody is currently getting fucked into the mattress by joonie lmao

**SeokjinFTW** : WHAT

**SeokjinFTW** : IS IT HIS HOOK-UP HE TOLD US ABOUT

**a bitch is crying and that bitch is SHOOKETH:** i dnot even wnna know

**Yoongenius™** : seok and i are coming over

**SeokjinFTW** : alright

**SeokjinFTW** : i have cookies, so get ready to spill the tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a mess lmao


	7. A Brief Change of Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What actually happened that morning, plus Some Thoughts™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK! Sorry for disappearing once again, but this chapter turned out to be a bit more difficult to write hahaha

_[A FEW HOURS EARLIER]_

Namjoon has always liked to consider himself a fairly well put-together person, no matter how loudly Yoongi might scoff at that statement, probably adding (for theatrical effect) an eye roll so exaggerated and dramatic Namjoon (honest-to-god) worries that one day Yoongi’s eyes will just… roll straight out of their sockets and into oblivion just like that, in a hasta-la-bye-bye-see-you-never type of way.

_Perhaps it’s time to agree with Yoongi._

That’s Namjoon’s second thought that morning, right after a disgruntled string of curse words in Japanese when he feels the sun tipping into the window like it’s way too early.

What evokes that second particular thought is none other than a blond head resting upon his tummy, a strong arm hugging his hips. Soft snores escape from plump lips and make Namjoon swallow down an amused chuckle, recalling all of last night’s absurd shenanigans. (Something right then and there bothers him, somewhere in his still sleep-muddled brain an urgent thought presses against his skull, like an itch he cannot scratch, like something you can only see if you catch it by surprise out of the corner of your eye, but the sight quickly distracts him again – but then again, who can blame him). He narrows his eyes at the boy (man?) who seems to be sleeping so peacefully, and chews on his bottom lip, shifts some in the bed to prop his head up on his elbow, trying not to smirk at the way Cheeky snuggles close again. He’s got that kind of face, Namjoon thinks ineffectually; the kind of face you want to pat after it’s given you an orgasm.

Perhaps Yoongi is right when he disagrees about Namjoon well-put-togetherness, but no matter how stupid it might be considered to bring home a might-as-well-call-it-stranger, Namjoon couldn’t let Cheeky dwell all alone on campus. Blame it on his exhausted, sleep-deprived brain that sometimes manages to sabotage itself (and, yeah, consequently also Namjoon, seen as he is his brain and his brain is him, you know how this things work).

So what if Namjoon isn’t that well put-together after all?

 _So many_ , he thinks somewhat grumpily to himself, groaning softly as he disentangles himself from Cheeky’s grasp, slipping off the duvet and rolling out of the bed, trying not to shiver at the way his bare feet feel against the cold hardwood floor. As he makes his way to the bathroom, he hears clattering from the kitchen and Hoseok’s voice softly rapping along to the song he’s listening to, and smiles to himself fondly, not surprised his hyperactive friend is up and about at such an ungodly hour.

It’s only when he takes a single step back into his room, once his bladder has been successfully emptied, that he notices what has been bothering him since he woke up, what that itch was on his skin that he didn’t know how to properly scratch.

_That motherfucker is fucking blond._

God- _fucking_ -dammit.

Namjoon is so screwed.

Namjoon is so, so screwed.

There is a nagging thought dangling by the most gossamer of threads at the back of Namjoon’s mind about _consequences_ and _now you’re truly fucked_ , but it falls away before he can even think to laugh _because there’s an idea that wouldn’t be so bad_ –

Because Cheeky wasn’t blond the last time he and Namjoon ran into each other, he wasn’t blond when Namjoon saw him in the grocery store that one time, and he _certainly_ wasn’t blond when he and Namjoon danced (grinded) together in the club the night they hooked up.

For a length of time he has no way ( _and_ no need, really, thank you very much) of measuring, Namjoon simply stands there frozen, motionless in the threshold of his room, unsure of what to do and how to act.

Somehow, his body takes pity on his racing mind, always so full and busy, and decides to act on its own before Cheeky wakes up and finds Namjoon creepily just… standing there. He manages to close the door softly behind his back, walking on his tiptoes towards his queen sized bed, and after a couple of instants of doubt he slips back under the duvet, sighing contentedly when he rests his head on the fluffy pillows.

Sleep must’ve taken him by surprise, because the next moment he opens his eyes, the room is dimly lit by the sun shining under and through the curtains, and there’s someone slowly drawing patters on his clothed back.

He turns around, blinking blearily as the memories flood him once again. Oh, _right_. He’d been having a crisis because of fucking hair dye before falling asleep once again.

Definitely not his proudest moment.

At all.

“Good morning,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the drowsiness still embracing his body, lifting himself up on his elbows while he fights off a yawn.

“Good morning,” Cheeky answers, his voice sounding as wrecked as he looks. He must have one _hell_ of a hangover, judging from the redness around his eyes and the state of his bedhair.

 _So fucking blond_ , Namjoon’s brain supplies unhelpfully. _Shut up_.

“Did I say anything embarrassing yesterday?” Cheeky asks, his voice slightly raspier than usual. He looks pensive for a few instants. “Wait, never mind that question… I can already tell I said embarrassing shit, I can feel it in my bones.”

“You might’ve said I was attractive.”

“That’s not embarrassing, that’s just the truth,” retorts Cheeky without missing a beat.

“Oh.”

“Well?”

“… does admitting you want to fuck me again count as embarrassing?”

“Jesus fucking Christ on a bike, I truly have no filter whatsoever.”

“Fact.”

“… I still meant it, though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh… I meant it too, when I asked for a raincheck.”

An almost predatory smirk appears quickly on Cheeky’s ( _god_ , so fucking pretty) lips, and he lifts himself on his knees, raising a cocky eyebrow when he notices the way Namjoon’s eyes follow intently the movement of his impressive thigh muscles.

“Like what you see?” he murmurs softly, his voice even raspier.

Namjoon kisses his dignity goodbye and raises his gaze from Cheeky’s thighs to his eyes, and allows himself to nod shortly, internally thanking his somewhat tanner complexion for not making his blush visible.

“Yeah,” he answers simply.

“Good.”

Slowly, slowly their lips drag across each other, thumbs brushing under their eyes. With kiss after light kiss they test each other, lips dry and sticking, pulling and tensing. Namjoon’s whole body feels poised on the edge of _oh shit_ and _oh yes_ , and then the boy finally, _finally_ opens his mouth and takes Namjoon’s bottom lip between his own, darkened eyes fluttering closed.

They skim and tumble over each other, lightly nipping and licking, pulling apart and pressing together in a smooth slide, a hint of teeth beneath soft lips paring Namjoon down to a wrecked bundle of throbbing nerves and needy, grasping fingers and agonising friction of jeans against sweats.

Namjoon plays at Cheeky’s lips, kissing first this way then that, licking all the tension of the past week right into his mouth, pressing his want to the swell of Cheeky’s lips until he’s heady with the words he can’t say, with the whispers which must be sighs for now. They kiss shallow and sweet, and then deep and hot, and it’s perfect, so fucking perfect the way they come together again and again as if in a dance.

When Namjoon pulls away to come at a new angle, to taste Cheeky from here, or here, Cheeky chases his lips, seeks out the crease with the tip of his tongue, scrapes with the edge of his teeth, scuffs over them with his breath, and God, Namjoon feels like he’s just sunk into a treacle-thick fantasy, a weirdly realistic dream.

He tingles, skin zapping all over like he’s never been thoroughly kissed before, and all the while Cheeky’s crowding right in to test the give of Namjoon’s mouth like he hasn’t eaten in days and Namjoon’s something entirely too delicious.

Namjoon pulls away briefly to breathe, feeling giddy when he notices the way Cheeky chases his lips again. Kissing along his jaw, Namjoon relishes the breathless craving in the boy’s galloping heartbeat, the vein in his neck pulsing under the skin. He presses his lips there, mouthing lazily at the corded muscle, following it all the way to the lobe of Cheeky’s ear, sucking it into his mouth, tormenting it with teeth and tongue. There, right there in the crease of the boy’s neck where the scent makes Namjoon’s head spin, he’s rewarded with a broken, raspy moan, which has absolutely no business outside of a sex marathon.

And well, if he forgets there live more people in his flat, one can’t sue him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Loser Line this chapter, but I just wanted to give a peek into Joonie's mind about the entire situation lol  
> hopefully it won't take me quite as long to end the next chapter, and as always, thank you for all your comments ♥


	8. Houseparty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stepping into the flat, having spent the entire day in his studio, Namjoon has a quick flashback to the previous night:  
> “C’mon, Joonie, it’s just a few friends I’m inviting over, nothing big, don’t worry.”  
> “What did Yoongi-hyung say, Hobi?”  
> “…”  
> “Holy shit, dude, do you have a death wish? You haven’t told him you’re planning on throwing a party in the flat he fucking lives in?”  
> “Don’t be so dramatic, Joon-ah, I’m sure it’ll be alright.”  
> “What kind of flowers do you want on your tombstone?”  
> “Joonie! I’m serious!”  
> “Me too!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry for going m.i.a like that once again omg, so as an apology here's a slightly longer chapter :)))

‘Chaos’ is a word Namjoon generally doesn’t like to use (ever) to describe _any_ sort of circumstance in his life. He’s a firm believer of the fact that there are _always_ more appropriate nouns to define problematic situations, and he considers ‘chaos’ too often misused to over-exaggerate incidents which are a bit out of control _at most_ , so he’s always told himself that, if it turned out absolutely necessary to describe such a terrible case, it must be something really _really_ fucked up, in a Houston-we-have-a-problem to the power of (at _least_ ) 5 type of way.

So, yeah. ‘Chaos’ is a word Namjoon _definitely_ doesn’t like to use very often, but sometimes there isn’t any other term that properly describes the whirlwind of unpredictability and madness and utter _mayhem_ that are his friends.

In all honesty, Namjoon has to admit defeat: the pandemonium currently going on in his flat – a pandemonium that Hoseok has the fucking nerve to call “ a quiet get-together” – is nothing short of complete and absolute _chaos_.

(Stepping into the flat, having spent the entire day in his studio, Namjoon has a quick flashback to the previous night: _“C’mon, Joonie, it’s just a few friends I’m inviting over, nothing big, don’t worry” “What did Yoongi-hyung say, Hobi?” “…” “Holy shit, dude, do you have a death wish? You haven’t told him you’re planning on throwing a party in the flat he fucking lives in?” “Don’t be so dramatic, Joon-ah, I’m sure it’ll be alright” “What kind of flowers do you want on your tombstone?” “Joonie! I’m serious!” “Me too!”_ )

When he enters the apartment, the music is so loud Namjoon can’t even hear himself think, and he mentally curses Yoongi (and, by automatic connotation in this very specific situation, himself too) for being a snob when it comes to anything music-related and therefore having refused to buy just any stereo. (And, goddammit, he _knew_ the one they’d bought had absolutely superb subwoofers, but what the actual shit on a _stick_ , Namjoon swears he can feel the bass vibrating in every single cell of his body, how his heart is sort of beating a little out of syncopation, how his palms are a bit sweaty, and what the _fuck_ is going on inside of his stomach?)

Also, it smells like weed – and well, liquor and beer – and there’s, somehow, more people crammed inside the apartment than Namjoon knows in fucking real life. Then again, Hoseok is the social butterfly of the group, so it’s no wonder he has invited literally everyone and their mother.

(Namjoon hopes – prays, begs – Hoseok hasn’t gone as far as actually inviting any mothers to the “quiet get-together” that’s currently going on inside the flat. Heaven knows the bastard wouldn’t shy away from such an opportunity).

He looks around and can’t help but snort at what he sees, head shaking as he watches a trio of girls dance on each other, hands moving in places that seem a little too friendly with giggles and blush streaking their cheeks. He considers joining them for a moment before looking away, fixing his eyes on a group of guys trying desperately to catch the attention of two blondes passing, failing miserably. Namjoon grins at that, lips curling.

He briefly wonders where Yoongi is, and how the older guy feels about the… situation going on, but quickly tosses that train of thought aside when he dares to imagine the murderous glint that might appear in Yoongi’s eyes if he’s feeling particularly homicidal today of all days. Namjoon settles against the wall, head nodding along to the deafening bass. He chews his pink bottom lip ruddy with anxious teeth, looking around. He sniffs, shoulders tight. The songs switch too quickly, everything bass-heavy and noisy, and drunken, giggly girls keep bumping into him on the way to the loo or to snog in a corner. His eyes shift onto a guy on the other side of the room, who’s watching (what Namjoon assumes is) a friend of his, pouting, like the other one’s fearless. Said pal has a hand on a brunette’s shoulder, flirting heavily, leaning up to whisper in her ear until she’s ducking her head, cheeks even redder than what they were before. Namjoon drags his teeth along his bottom lip to stop from laughing, the way the first guy’s nose scrunches and his eyes go a little wide with astonishment, leaves a nice tingle along Namjoon’s stomach until he forces himself to look away.

After a couple of minutes, he exhales and massages his temples with the top of his fingers, trying to suppress the dull ache behind his eyelids. To his overstimulated brain, the heaviness of the air mixed with the loud music is too fucking much, so he walks to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of beer out of the fridge, chugging as soon as he pops the cap off with the buckle of his belt.

 _Where the fuck_ is _Hoseok?_

Perhaps he’s somewhere on the makeshift dancefloor that’s been created in the middle of their living room. But Namjoon refuses to search for him there if that implies he’d have to venture into the mass of people. It’s the grinding bodies against each other, like cheap pornography; hands everywhere, lips slippery from alcohol and something carnal. Just enough space between mouths and skin but with hips smashed together, creating this indecent rhythm that he thinks isn’t worth it

He doesn’t really enjoy this type of thing – Namjoon hates dancing in public as much as Yoongi hates mornings, as much as Hoseok hates hangovers, as much as Seokjin hates cold tea, as much as Jeongguk hates the way Seokjin is just a little too happy when he gets what he wants.

There’s a group of dizzily drunk girls at the other end of the room, openly running their eyes over him. A few lads nearby, glaring at him with smirks. A tall bloke a few yards away, his jaw slack and eyes wide like he wants to swallow him without gagging. Like Namjoon is –

He lowers his head, his cheeks lit like the spinning lights. A kaleidoscope of pinks he can’t avoid. He chugs the rest of his beer, gasping out a breath, dragging his hand over his mouth to wipe away the excess. He needs to find Hoseok, or at least Yoongi. (Preferably both).

The boy rubs his bloodshot eyes and turns left out of the living room and further into the flat, passing through the different rooms filled with different people, most of whom he doesn’t recognize.

He enters Hoseok’s room, full of people surrounding the bed and lounging around, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out he has walked right into a special reunion, most likely a game. Namjoon scans the crowd for signs of Hoseok or Yoongi but comes up empty. He tries to edge around the crowd but finds it more difficult in such a full room.

“Ah, looks like the group is big enough to make it a little bit of _fun_ ,” a familiar voice taunts. Namjoon turns his head at the familiar voice but can’t spot Hoseok.

“Anyone else in?” another familiar voice calls. Namjoon recognizes Yoongi’s slow slur. He feels a hand clamp down on his shoulder as he’s almost out of the room.

“How about you?” the bloke with the hand on his shoulder asks. “You in?”

“Why the fuck not,” Namjoon smirks, and he’s pushed forward towards the circle without hesitation, being greeted by cheering.

He briefly considers he really doesn’t have enough liquor in his system to handle anything well, so he quickly downs the rest of a gin bottle someone offers him and tosses it somewhere behind him, wiping his hands confidently on his shredded jeans.

“Let’s do this then!”

***

When he sat down, Namjoon had no idea what he was getting into; because, apparently, there’s nothing as much fun as playing fucking ‘spin the bottle’ while being drunk off your fucking ass.

It doesn’t take him more than a round to actually realize what’s going on, and suddenly he’s throwing all his worries away, eyes lidded, nerves fried. He’s run out of fucks to give suddenly, easing up slowly to find a comfortable position before he’s throwing all of his fear and insecurities into the wind.

That is, until he spots Cheeky sitting right in front of him, ogling him with a smirk on his lips. Yeah, those lips. Pink, spit-slicked, with a thick bottom lip. Namjoon rubs at his neck, remembers what those kisses taste like, and he smirks back.

They don’t break eyecontact until the neck of the bottle stops right in front of Namjoon, pointing at him, and he raises his eyes to see who he has to kiss.

A pretty girl with wide eyes and a shy smile stands up and walks over to him, crouching so their mouths are at the same level, and she smiles timidly as she warps an arm around Namjoon’s waist to maintain her balance.

Suddenly, the girl’s mouth is just there. He squeezes the arm around his waist and the girl’s other hand finds the back of Namjoon’s head, stroking slightly. She doesn’t pull back.

He’s too much aware of the eyes watching them to feel much of the kiss. The girl tastes of whisky sours and there’s smoke clinging to her clothes; he thinks hazily, the combination’s familiar on his tongue. The girl’s hand tenses around his waist, making his muscles jump under her fingers. Namjoon presses a last peck on her mouth before he pulls away.

And the game continues.

The next person he has to kiss in none other than his flatmate.

Namjoon turns to Yoongi, laughing out loud.

The next thing Namjoon knows Yoongi’s lips are on his, bitter from the beer but with a tinge of something fresh like mint. Shrugging, he slings his arm around Yoongi’s neck casually, skin pressing into skin, pulling him towards his own body. Namjoon smiles into the kiss, moving his own lips against his best friend’s like they’ve done once before. Right now, all he can focus on is Yoongi’s lips, pressing against his with no hesitance. Namjoon’s body crowds Yoongi, a hand placed on his waist, fingers digging into Yoongi’s side.

They both draw back after a long moment, and Yoongi’s tongue flashes out to lick at his teeth.

After a few more spins, he has to make out with Seokjin, and between laughs, they comply. Seokjin tastes of vodka and something sweet, like Sprite, maybe, and Namjoon licks away at his mouth, devouring the flavour.

It happens a few rounds later. Cheeky twists the bottle and, after spinning a few times, it stops.

Right in front of Namjoon.

 _Right in front of Namjoon_.

Namjoon’s blood turns hot, electricity in his veins, his breathing accelerated, and his lips are dry again when he thinks about dragging his teeth down Cheeky’s neck, licking his way back up to that chin that’s spotted with a light dusting of scruff.

“Ah, lucky Jackson,” complains a gorgeous girl with blood-red lipstick, looking hungrily at Namjoon. “I’ve been waiting to kiss Joon-ah for _hours_ now.”

 _So that’s his name_ , Namjoon thinks dumbly. _Jackson_.

It suits him.

He’s unable to even fucking move a single muscle when Cheeky – Jackson, Namjoon corrects himself – stands up and walks over to where he’s sitting on the floor, arms flexing when he rubs at his t-shirt with slender fingers. The muscles stretch out the fabric of his black shirt, pulling at the thin cotton where his shoulders are, tight enough to see his chest that’s probably been crafted by gods or something.

As if it’s the most normal thing in the world, Jackson straddles his lap, and, automatically, Namjoon’s hands go to Jackson’s glorious thighs to help him settle as he watches that beautiful mouth fold into a grin.

“Let’s show ‘em how it’s done, darling,” Jackson tells him conspiratorially. It makes the persons sitting next to them laugh and Namjoon might need to go find a quiet corner and cry for a bit. Or masturbate, maybe, since Jackson is gorgeous and Namjoon’s sexually frustrated, and very, very horny.

One of Namjoon’s hands get tangled in Jackson’s hair, bringing him in closer, while Jackson’s own roam Namjoon’s upper body. Namjoon’s taller than Jackson – his forehead merely reaches Namjoon’s nose – but seated that doesn’t matter.

He inclines forward, lips ghosting over Jackson’s, never pressing, never giving into what Jackson wants though he feels him whimper and lean forward. He pulls back with a smirk, nips at the edge of Jackson’s chin before snorting, his other hand snaking behind Jackson’s back, dragging down until his fingers run over the small curve of his ass. His fingers grip Jackson’s shirt a little tighter, set in the wrinkles and there’s a plea in the other’s eyes.

It’s not even a real kiss at first. More a soft exchange of breath, like Jackson’s literally breathing life into him. Namjoon moves his mouth a bit to latch onto Jackson’s lower lip and pull, just a little. The boy lets out a strangled whimper and ducks his head to deepen the contact, his tongue flicking out against Namjoon’s, tentative as though he’s asking a question. Namjoon nods, wordlessly, and brings his right hand up to tilt Jackson’s head and push at his mouth, suck at his plump lips like his existence depends on it.

Jackson’s hands are heavy and hot at the small of Namjoon’s back. It’s funny, but he hadn’t realised how different their bodies are: Namjoon is a few inches taller but Jackson is denser in muscularity and much broader in the shoulders and torso. He realises it now. And the feel of Jackson pressed against him, pulling him in close so every part of them is touching, is _everything_.

It’s everything Namjoon’s never felt before. It’s beating hearts and sweating hands and kisses that are as hard as a bruise. It makes his blood swirl up, hot and frantic in his veins.

The room has gone quiet, and you can actually hear the music now, more than just a thudding bass. Namjoon breaks off the kiss and winks at Jackson, his dark eyes wide and studying him. And just as quickly as it happened, Namjoon is back in the game, hollering to a struck Hoseok to spin the fucking bottle already because they don’t have all damn night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it very obvious that sugamon is one of my otps? i might have to write an au for them someday...


	9. Too Early In The Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the fuck, hyung.”  
> “Exactly. So, if you’d be so kind…”  
> “To?”  
> “What?”  
> “I mean, what do I have to do?”  
> “Ah, right,” Seokjin nods, and walks to his own front door, stopping on front of it and dangling his keys from his pinky finger. “Open up. Please.”  
> “What,” Namjoon deadpans, blinking again, “the fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seems like i truly enjoy disappearing from the surface of this earth from time to time...... anyhow, i hope you enjoy the update!

A sudden jerk, the feeling of his body freefalling, and Namjoon is jolting awake. The sheets are tangled around his legs and his skin is slightly shiny with sweat, caused by the ~~(furnace)~~ warm body pressed snugly against his side. There’s still sleep burning behind his eyelids whilst his fingers pull at the sheets, knuckles going pale and white from the tension as he collapses back on his pillows, sweat beading at his temples. He’s breathing heavily, trying to calm himself down from being pulled away so harshly from his deep sleep.

“Joonie, wake the _fuck_ up, please, I’m fucking begging you,” he hears a familiar voice whisper urgently by his side. A hand jostles his shoulder with less care than he’d like at such ungodly hours of the morning – judging from the faint grey light seeping in through the blinds, it must be around… yeah, the asscrack of dawn sound about right. Namjoon sighs a bit dramatically.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’, Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbles, sitting up.

“Who’s ’at?” a voice mutters, thick and quiet with sleep. Namjoon lets out a breath, a quick whoosh of air, and his heart starts beating again. It’s Jackson.

“Nothing, Jacks, go back to sleep,” he says softly, not thinking about the nickname whilst fighting back a yawn big enough to dislocate his jaw. He’s still half-asleep by the time he slips his arms through the first rumpled hoodie he lays his eyes on (not even bothering to zip it up) and shuffles out of his room. His stomach a little unsettled, probably with alcohol still making its way through his bloodstream, he waddles out of his room, following a pale-looking Seokjin.

“Is it really urgent?” he states flatly when Seokjin opens the door of his flat and steps outside into the silent corridor. Namjoon’s voice is gruff with sleep, his most annoyed scowl is on his face. He tilts his head at the older man. “It’s way too early for this,” he groans, covering the mother of all yawns with the back of his left hand. “Waaaaay too early.”

“The lives of three human beings are in danger,” snips Seokjin, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Is that urgent enough for you, mister?”

That does the trick. Namjoon blinks repeatedly, _so_ sure he’s heard wrong.

“What the fuck, hyung.”

“Exactly. So, if you’d be so kind…”

“To?”

“What?”

“I mean, what do I have to do?”

“Ah, right,” Seokjin nods, and walks to his own front door, stopping on front of it and dangling his keys from his pinky finger. “Open up. Please.”

“What,” Namjoon deadpans, blinking again, “the _fuck_.”

“Open up the door, Joonie, and step inside my flat.”

“Is this a joke, hyung?”

“For fuck’s sake, Joon.”

“What?”

“Stop fucking questioning me!”

“Yes, sir!” In 0,2 seconds, Namjoon is opening the door to Seokjin’s flat with the keys the elder has offered him, and stepping inside the quiet entrance (fearing only slightly less for his life now that he can’t see Seokjin’s glare but only feel it prickling on the skin of his neck, making the fine hairs on his neck stand straight).

Inside of the flat it looks like it’s been hit by a fucking bomb (of _considerable_ calibre), just like that. All sort of clothes are haphazardly thrown around the living room, some of the more expensive-looking garments pulled inside out or just tossed aside like used rags; a lovely loveseat in a peachy colour is, inexplicably, turned upside-down, the cream-coloured throw-cushions that would normally adorn it on any ordinary day of the year strewn around it without any apparent rhyme or reason; an alarming amount of empty cans of beer litter the neat parquet floor – and is that a puddle of _puke_? (Namjoon supresses a full-body shudder at that, the part of his brain that isn’t focused on the mess that is the living room merrily snickering when he recognizes the brand of beer that adorns the side of the numerous cans as that one shitty American beer uni students drink in all those movies). In the middle of it, three figures sleep peacefully in what look like a sort of uncomfortable-looking puppy pile.

And, just like that, Namjoon suddenly understands what Seokjin had meant when he said ‘ _the lives of three human beings are in danger_ ’… In danger from Seokjin himself, alright. And, truly, Namjoon can’t even blame the guy. Hell, even he, easy-going anarcho-pacifist that he is, couldn’t guarantee that he’d be able to resist the all-consuming urge to skin those three goddamn heathens alive if they’d done the same thing to his own flat. (Most importantly, he understands _why_ Seokjin has asked him specifically to accompany him into this… this _warzone_ ).

A quiet growl behind him.

Instinctively, Namjoon’s body reacts just in time to stop Seokjin from going on a (probably very bloody) homicidal rage as he surges forward, both of his arms wrapping around the elder’s firm chest and pulling him back whilst Seokjin struggles in an attempt to free himself from Namjoon’s (surprisingly) strong grip.

“Hyung! Control yourself!” he manages to wheeze, holding the raging man tightly against his chest. “For fuck’s sake!”

The sound of struggling quickly rouses the three boys sleeping on the carpet, and Namjoon recognizes a sheepish-looking Jeongguk untangling himself from the heap of limbs (and way too much visible skin). The kid winces when he looks around to what used to be Seokjin’s impeccably tidy living room, at the mess it is now, and Namjoon can see the kid swallow – visibly uncomfortable – when he meets Seokjin’s murderous glare.

“I can explain,” he croaks weakly, holding out his hands in a supposedly placating manner that only manages to rile up Seokjin even more, hissing something along the lines of _god-fucking-dammit, Namjoon, just release me so I can kill them, god, only a little bit, please, the urge is too much, I will only kill them a little bit and then you can patch them up and I’ll even help you ‘cause I won’t feel as murderous anymore, I promise –_

Yeah, Namjoon isn’t releasing his grip on him anytime soon; not as long as the three little twerps’ physical integrity is in danger through, say, for example, losing their limbs one by one, as Seokjin is suggesting Namjoon allows him to do _if you’d just loosen up your grip, Joonie –_

“He can explain,” echoes one of the other two boys, his blinding smile distracting Namjoon briefly from his red red _red_ hair.

Turns out, Seokjin isn’t really in the mood for any type of explanation, and when he manages to calm down enough (which takes him longer than he’ll ever admit to anyone, the right bastard) he says, his voice cold enough to give someone hypothermia: “I’m going to go back to Joonie’s flat. I’ll be back here by tonight, and I want the house the way it was yesterday, no excuses. I’ll make dinner.”

His hasty – and, Namjoon begrudgingly admits, very dignified – retreat leaves Namjoon standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room with three pairs of curious and shining eyes fixed on him, making him feel very self-conscious about the baby blue sweatpants hanging low on his hips and the rumpled hoodie with the zip undone.

“I think you just saved our lives, hyung,” says Jeongguk, grinning so widely his nose wrinkles slightly. “Tae-hyung, Jiminie, this is Namjoonie-hyung, and he just saved our asses from sure annihilation.”

One of the kids (Namjoon’s pretty sure it’s the one named Taehyung) laughs, and Namjoon is enveloped suddenly by a pair of warm arms. It’s only because he’s half asleep that he doesn’t offer any resistance.

Taehyung beams and leans in closer to poke Namjoon’s cheek.

“So pretty,” he singsongs, voice light. “Look at those dimples.”

“OK, kids, I’m… going back to sleep, yeah, bye,” Namjoon mutters and evacuates himself out of the room. Retreats. Whatever you call it when three overly-enthusiastic kids go up against you and you nearly piss your pants but don’t actually die. That.

******

**_Chat: Loser Line 2.0_ **

**SeokjinFTW** : jeon jeongguk

 **SeokjinFTW** : is it safe for my poor heart to go back to the flat

 **SeokjinFTW** : or nah

 **MemeChild** : Wait

**_MemeChild_ ** **added _Kim Taehyung_ to the chat _Loser Line 2.0_**

**_MemeChild_ ** **added _Park Jimin_ to the chat _Loser Line 2.0_**

**SeokjinFTW** : WELLLLLLLL??????

 **a bitch is crying and that bitch is SHOOKETH** : ooohhhh fresh blood

**_Kim Taehyung_ ** **changed their username to _TaeTae_**

**Yoongenius™** : goodness gracious, more unfortunate souls that somehow got dragged into this

 **TaeTae** : DON’T WORREH HYUING WE’RE HERE VOLUNTARILY

 **Yoongenius™** : why

 **SeokjinFTW** : IM STILL WAITING FOR AN ANSWE R

 **MemeChild** : The flat is a-okay again

 **SeokjinFTW** : god bless

**_TaeTae_ ** **changed _Park Jimin_ ’s username to _Jiminie Cricket_**

**a bitch is crying and that bitch is SHOOKETH** : that s teh cutest shit ive ever seen omfg

 **GoD** : Welcome to the jungle, I guess

 **Yoongenius™** : *sigh*

 **SeokjinFTW** : play nice, yoongichii

 **Yoongenius™** : …

 **Jiminie Cricket** : ARE YOU KIDDING ME THAT’S ADORABLE

 **Yoongenius™** : aNYHOW

 **TaeTae** : OHHHHH JOONIE-HYUNG HELLO THERE

 **MemeChild** : Tae-hyung, stop annoying Joonie-hyung, I’d like to stay in his good books

 **a bitch is crying and that bitch is SHOOKETH:** kookie dont be a spoilsport this is someehting i wanna see lmaoooo

 **Yoongenius™** : what is happening

**_TaeTae_ ** **changed _GoD_ ’s username to _dimples so deep they’re full of secrets_**

**MemeChild** : tAE

 **SeokjinFTW** : fitting

 **Yoongenius™** : how come we’ve never used that one before

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : That’s because y’all are mean

 **a bitch is crying and that bitch is SHOOKETH:** sjut upp, dimple-man

 **Yoongenius™** : savage

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets:** YOU HAVE DIMPLES TOO, SEOK

 **Yoongenius™** : true

 **SeokjinFTW** : …

 **SeokjinFTW** : this is a mess

 **Jiminie Cricket** : I’m loving it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aahhhhh~ i'd missed writing the Loser Line c:


	10. The Token (& Sorta Obligatory) Halloween Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As time never fails to do, it keeps on passing and going on – measured in hours, songs, cups of coffee consumed (as Yoongi does), trips to the supermarket, missed deadlines you wave to as they pass you by – and doesn’t slow down for anyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i disappeared /once again/ and i'm so fucking sorry about that, but uni started again and i've been busy busy buusyyyy :^)
> 
> anyhow, i hope you enjoy the update! (it's longer than usual as a sort of apology for the long wait hahha) also, there's weed usage in this chapter, so if you're not comfortable with that, i'm very sorry :^(

As time never fails to do, it keeps on passing and going on – measured in hours, songs, cups of coffee consumed (as Yoongi does), trips to the supermarket, missed deadlines you wave to as they pass you by – and doesn’t slow down for anyone. As harsh wind blows autumn away and winter asserts its dominance through obscenely low temperatures, Namjoon’s feelings grow steadily with an ease that technically shouldn’t surprise him, but still baffles him nonetheless when he realizes just how deep he’s been falling. Because that’s what’s been going on: he’s been falling and, stupid stupid _stupid_ that he is, he hasn’t even had the levelheadedness to check for some kind of fucking safety net at the bottom, as one probably should. (If you have at least an ounce of survival instinct, that is; otherwise, don’t sweat it).

 _(Gonna fall gonna faceplant the ground gonna hurt gonna go up in flames gonna die gonna die gonna_ die _–)_

He can’t exactly pinpoint _when_ he started to think differently about his relationship with Jackson (and Jackson in general, really, as a person and perhaps something… _more_ ), but once he catches himself wondering whether the blond boy is sleeping and eating enough – because by now Namjoon knows that Jackson is _way_ too fucking harsh on himself when it comes to anything academic-related, and he _worries_ , okay, because fucking exams are coming up and, yeah, perhaps he and Jackson have been fucking less these days when they meet up, and have been studying together in quiet companionship, but he has still seen the way Jackson’s shoulders are tense _all the goddamn time_ and how he chews his lip raw in concentration when he doesn’t quite grasp what his textbooks are trying to explain to him –, he can’t stop it.

And, _fuck_ , does that knowledge drive him out of his mind.

 _Why me_ , he asks himself on a daily basis, often more than once. The nihilist in him mockingly answers _why not you_ , and Namjoon is done™ with himself and everyone around him for at least a few hours at a time.

(Namjoon can, perhaps, if pressured enough by the constant nagging of one or two – or maybe now definitely _three_ , now that Seokjin has made himself a secure and comfortable spot all for himself in Namjoon’s heart – annoying but arguably lovable best friends, admit the moment he realized his feelings for Jackson maybe surpassed those of _dang, I wanna bang him_ and transformed into a strange mix of _let me tuck him into bed and kiss his forehead_ and _dang, I wanna bang him but with **feeling**_. Between them, it isn’t just sex anymore, he realises – it’s intimacy on a level he’s never experienced, it’s trust in equal amounts of give and take).

******

_[FLASHBACK]_

It’s Halloween.

It’s Halloween and Namjoon is at a party, unsure whose house he’s currently in – not caring whose house he’s in, quite honestly. He’s only worried about one (1) single thing this very moment, and that is finding Hoseok and his endless stash of pot, because of he’s going to survive tonight in this ridiculous costume he’s wearing, he needs something more to take the edge off.

(Really, he’s never in his fucking _life_ allowing Seokjin to dress him again, no matter how hard he pouts and complains about _Joonie, goddammit, I’m not allowing you to leave this motherfucking house without wearing something that makes it look like you have an actual ass and actually shows that the expression ‘having legs for days’ isn’t said just for fucking shits and giggles, please and thank you –_ )

So here he is, silly pushover that he is, at a party he doesn’t even know who’s hosting, showcasing more leg that he’s _ever_ done – and, truly, he’s unsure why _anyone_ would need this many fucking rips in their black skinny jeans, the offending gaps in the fabric trailing up up _up_ so far that Namjoon has been forced to forgo his boxers because they would’ve been visible otherwise, peeping though the shreds –, looking for Hoseok in the hope that getting stoned out of his mind – as in, high as a fucking kite – will make him ease smoothly into the flow of the party surrounding him.

The music slips into something a little smoother, like a neat whiskey without the ice. It still pulses through the speakers, deafens all of the conversations around Namjoon, but he doesn’t tense at the way it thrums.

He spots him not much later, thankfully: Hoseok easily stands out, unconsciously, with those bright eyes and that glossy hair and that leather jacket _stitched_ over his arms and chest like a second skin.

Namjoon narrows his eyes in amusement at the way Hoseok flirts his way through the madness, fluttering eyes and a pink tongue licking the sour taste of vodka from his lips.

 _Lethal_ , he reminds himself because it’s what Hoseok is. Wild eyes and sharp cheeks. The only thing missing would be a gun tucked into his hip to finish the picture of suave international spy.

Hoseok makes his way to Namjoon as soon as he sees him, the latter standing a little straighter when he notices Yoongi half-tucked into Hoseok’s side, Seokjin not far behind.

“You’re a real minx, Seok, I don’t know how you do it.” Hoseok smiles at Namjoon’s teasing. It’s sharp with slightly flushed cheeks – too much alcohol and not the mention of his flirting, of course – and pronounced dimples. He takes another slow sip of his drink, eyebrows shifting before he replies, “You’d know, right, Joonie?”

“Me?” he can’t help but chuckle at the absurd thought, but Hoseok raises his eyebrows so high Namjoon can’t help but imagine them jumping off his forehead to dance between the clusterfuck of people occupying the makeshift dancefloor.

“C’mon, mate, don’t act like you don’t know what you look like and why you get second, sometimes even third looks from people in the street or at bars or like, when you’re at fucking uni.”

Namjoon feels a bit uncomfortable, doesn’t like where the conversation is going, so he suggests: “shall we get high?”, and his change of topic flies over everyone’s head as they enthusiastically nod in agreement.

Namjoon, Seokjin, and Yoongi follow Hoseok out of the living room and up onto the second story, entering an empty room and letting out a slow breath as the dull sounds of the party going on downstairs become almost white noise, the calm atmosphere of the room surrounding them. The breeze coming in from the open window whips their hair in front of their face. Looking around, Namjoon scratches at one of the shaved sides of his head before sitting next to Seokjin on one of the worn out beanbags there.

Hoseok produces a couple of slightly flattened joints from his pocket, as well as a lighter, and a cigarette from behind his ear. He grins widely at the other three and brings the cigarette to his lips before flicking the lighter. It sparks but doesn’t catch, and he flicks it again, the flame flickering from the wind blowing in through the open window. Hoseok holds out one of the joints and the lighter to Namjoon, the normal cigarette already lit between Yoongi’s fingers as Hoseok puts another one of the joint between his teeth. Yoongi is already breathing in and slowly letting out smoke.

“Thanks, mate,” Namjoon says with a nod, lighting the joint and taking a long (much-needed) drag. He already feels relaxed just from the first hit, head falling back as he lets his eyes close.

Namjoon takes another pull holding the smoke deep in his lung as he hands the joint to Seokjin, immediately taking Yoongi’s cigarette from between his fingers. It’s silent as they pass them back and forth between them, moving slowly to high.

“Shotgun?” Yoongi looks up at Hoseok with red-rimmed eyes.

“’Course, babe,” says Yoongi with a lazy grin.

The older boy looks up at Hoseok’s face for a second, the warm light over his features giving him a soft glow. Yoongi’s lips are swollen slightly, his cheeks flushed, the slight smell of smoke, sweat and mint rolling off of him.

Yoongi raises the joint to his lips, sucking in the smoke. He lifts his hand to Hoseok’s neck, pulling him down and closer to him. He taps the edge of Hoseok’s jaw with his thumb and Hoseok parts his lips. Yoongi presses their mouths together exhaling the smoke into him as his own eyes flutter close. He pulls back slightly keeping his hand over Hoseok’s neck.

(They haven’t talked about it, but Namjoon’s pretty fucking sure that Yoongi loves Hoseok deeply, that the feeling is most certainly not one-sided, and that for Yoongi even ‘liking’ someone is a bit less defined than for other people. For Yoongi, this can pretty much be anything Hoseok needs – or allows.

It’s kind of – _nice_.

There’s no way Yoongi wouldn’t put the world at Hoseok’s feet if Hoseok looked like he might want it. It’s a weird kind of friendship, one that won’t necessarily remain confined to friendship, but just as well could. There’s no pressure.

Namjoon’s a little jealous. But this is a thing you have to go out and find for yourself, and build it up until you can rib each other with ridiculous stuff while other people get jealous over your teasing).

***

An hour or so later, Namjoon’s joyful haze gets interrupted by a call from reality – that _bitch_.

“Isn’t that –” Hoseok points to one corner of the room, where there’s a black and white framed photo of G-Dragon’s face photoshopped onto what seems to be Beyoncé’s body (he doesn’t even want to _know_ what it’s doing there, but the booty is unmistakeable), and Namjoon chokes on his drink, whipping his head so fast he can hear it crick even over the din.

“Awe, fuck. It totally is,” Yoongi frowns, his voice raspy and more than a little exasperated. “That’s the asshole ex, Ji-hoe.”

Fucking shit on a pogo stick.

Namjoon’s shoulders tense. He glances over and, indeed, there’s Jiho in a circle of friends, his hair scraped back and his shirt undone, looking like he just rolled out of bed. Which he did, Namjoon guesses, because Jiho is the kind of bloke to pad into the kitchen for breakfast like two fucking hours before going out – always has been. The sour taste that suddenly appears in Namjoon’s mouth isn’t caused by the alcohol, no, it’s something more deep and filthy, and he can feel it sticking to his palate and tongue. Yikes. He keeps drinking more to wash it away, without result apart from losing the threads that join him with his common sense one by one.

(If his survival instinct was a person, Namjoon guesses it’d be watching with keen interest how the situation unfolds, munching on buttered popcorn and with zero fucking intentions of stepping in and saving Namjoon from impending doom).

Namjoon dithers for a brief second, contemplating moving further back to avoid Jiho catching his eye but someone touches his elbow and points him in Namjoon’s direction before he makes any kind of decision. Jiho waves enthusiastically and excuses himself from his pals.

God-fucking-dammit.

“Joon!”

Namjoon tips back his drink because he’ll _definitely_ need it, before a hand slaps him on the back and he gets a faceful of Woo Jiho up close and personal. “Hi, hyung,” he says, with a measured voice. Jiho isn’t fazed. He grins and bats his eyelids, looking eagerly around at Hoseok and greeting him with a charming smile. He’s skinnier maybe than the last time Namjoon saw him but it works in his favour; his tattoos are a stark contrast against the white shirt he’s wearing with almost all the buttons undone and he’s wearing grey skinny jeans with holes in both knees.

Hoseok, on the other hand, looks like several vital arteries are about to burst.

Jiho turns his full attention to Namjoon again, smile back on. “You should’ve told me you were coming, love!”

“We just kind of, ended up here,” Namjoon says lamely. It’s not exactly the truth but Jiho doesn’t push it, even though he looks like he knows. His attention has been pulled elsewhere, down down _down_ , dark eyes hungrily taking in the golden skin exposed by the fucking shredded jeans.

“Yeah? How have you been, sweetheart?”

Namjoon has half a heart already set to say something to Jiho along the lines of _don’t call me that, hyung, you gave up that privilege the very fucking moment you chose Kwon Hyuk over me_ when a warm hand slips possessively around his waist and he’s pulled into a hard body, making all his thoughts scatter like fallen leaves in the wind.

“You okay, darling?” is said directly against his ear, and Jackson’s warm breath causes a shiver to run down Namjoon’s spine.

“Yeah, yeah,” _there you go, Joon, eloquence personified as always, ladies and gentlemen, please, a round of applause_. “Don’t worry about me, babe.”

The nickname slips from between his high-loosened lips with a bit too much ease, and the hand on his waist tightens its grip _almost_ unperceptively. Jiho doesn’t miss the gesture though, and he cocks his head as, slowly, a curious smile curls the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, Joonie, I didn’t know you were here with _someone_ ,” he says, emphasising the last word as if to inquire who the fuck this someone is and what his business is being so goddamn _touchy_.

“Yeah, uhm,” Namjoon mumbles nervously, glancing at Jackson. What should he say? Is ‘ _yeah, no, this is actually my FWB that I actually didn’t even know was going to be here, surprise!_ ’ an acceptable answer?

Before he can open his big mouth to (probably) embarrass himself and perhaps Jackson too, he feels the hand around his waist slip down to his ass.

“We came together, and we’ll leave together to _come_ together.” Jackson smirks cockily. He’s lazily sipping at a pink drink, the lights turning his hair a white colour. His shirt is a nice stain of burgundy, fancy material shimmering with each of his movements. Evening stubble lines the edge of his jaw, cuffs shoved messily up his forearms like always. There’s a few buttons undone in this haphazard way that shows his sharp collarbones.

“You’re _together_?”

Honestly, Namjoon can’t find it in himself to be too insulted by the incredulousness in Jiho’s voice at the erroneous assumption, having accepted internally that indeed Jackson is _way_ out of his league. (Every time he thinks that, he can hear Yoongi’s voice clear as crystal in his mind chastising him about putting himself down like that, and every time he retorts to imaginary Yoongi, without missing a single beat, _have you seen his fucking body? His goddamn thighs? His smile???_ And then he feels better, because he’s right and he has the right to feel smug about that fact, because Jackson _is_ out of his league).

Which is why it comes as a huge fucking surprise when Jackson answers with an easy ‘yes’, and Namjoon’s heart just, _stills_ in his chest – _thump thump **stop**_.

Wait, _what_.

He turns his head to look at Jackson, and suddenly he simply can’t take his eyes away from him and way Jackson looks at him like he might adore Namjoon. Namjoon knows Jackson doesn’t, but the thought sizzles against his stomach. The music throbs in his ears, the rough bass floating through his bloodstream. There’s heat along his veins, something twitching in his gut, and, fuck, forget about fucking butterflies. Namjoon doesn’t do cliché – in fact, he’s completely against the idea that anyone’s heart actually stops when they look at someone. For him, there’s no such thing, and he doesn’t believe you hear silly love songs in your head when you look at someone and, fuck, he’s _so_ certain about all this, but when he finds himself mesmerized by Jackson’s profile and suddenly Namjoon envisions himself kissing the tip of Jackson’s nose during the winter, watching that beautiful mouth fold into a grin, it downs him.

Oh.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Namjoon is in fucking love.

Namjoon is in fucking love with the way Jackson’s dyed hair feathers across his high forehead brushing his straight eyebrows. The sharp way his collarbones stand against his skin, and the attractive curved lines of his limbs, showing off the strength they own.

He is in love with the dark eyelashes that span across Jackson’s cheekbones as his eyes flutter shut, and his eyes especially, an ebony that usually shines bright with energy, but right now they are hungry, playful in a way that makes arousal burn in Namjoon’s lower belly in anticipation.

He is in love with the pink staining his cheeks, the occasional shyness across his features like he wants Namjoon to think he is innocent, even though he’s fully aware Namjoon knows better. Like Namjoon doesn’t know how Jackson’d like to rile him up at inappropriate times, in public with dirty words whispered against his ear, getting him to the point where he’d drag him off somewhere not private enough because Jackson’d be so loud, even though this thing between the two of them is supposed to be secret – and _casual_.

He is in love with the sound of Jackson’s laugh, his high giggle that becomes even more throaty and overwhelmed when he teases, which Namjoon has not quite managed to perfect like Jackson himself. And the sound of his name rolling off his tongue, fuck – he is in love with that too.

Namjoon loves how willing Jackson is to let him guide the pace, and how gentle the other boy can be even though that is still quite new to them, because he still whines for harder every time Namjoon’s strokes are too soft, too gentle. But he also loves how aggressive he can get, taking over and pressing Namjoon into the mattress, telling him how good he is or showing him how to do it better.

Namjoon loves his sharp wit and even sharper tongue, contrasting in a delightful paradox with the kindness and selflessness that always oozes out of Jackson.

Namjoon loves everything about him. Fuck, Namjoon is just completely in love with Jackson.

Jackson’s chin tilts easy when he nuzzles his nose just under his jaw, exposing the length of his neck. He grazes his teeth against Jackson’s skin, making him shiver next to him, before he pulls it into his mouth, remembering the same warning that has been ever-present in his head from the beginning of this thing they are doing, _no ties_.

Forget indeed about those butterflies, there’s a full herd of fucking stampeding wildebeest inside Namjoon’s tummy.

He’s so screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh. joonie's had THE epiphany we've all been waiting for! :o
> 
> WHAT TO DO NOW?  
> "don't die", would recommend yoongi, if you asked namjoon
> 
> :^)))))))))))))


	11. Chat: Loser Line 2.0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers: Wait, what  
> TaeTae: nothing  
> dead and buried: nothing  
> SeokjinFTW: nothing  
> dimples so deep they’re full of secrets: Nothing  
> HO HO HO seokkie: actually… :^)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you believe i'm actually updating like, only a fortnight after i posted the last chapter???? me neither lol
> 
> anyhow, have this 3k chapter of just pure 'loser line' nonsense which ends up being kind of a filler chapter ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> enjoy!!! (and bear w/ me, cuz you - and i - may never know when i choose to disappear again for a month or two)
> 
> xoxo

[21st  of DECEMBER]

**_Chat: Loser Line 2.0_ **

**_[3.02am]_ **

**_a bitch is crying and that bitch is SHOOKETH_ ** **changed their username to _HO HO HO seokkie_**

**Yoongenius™** : wouldn’t it actually be HOE HOE HOE*

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : dnot bully me!!!!!!

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : accurate doe

**_HO HO HO seokkie_ ** **changed _Yoongenius™_ ’s username to _smol & bitter_**

**TaeTae** : WHY DOE S IT SOUND LIEK HYUNG IS AN ESPRESSO

 **smol & bitter**: bitch

 **smol & bitter**: fight me

 **TaeTae** : i luv espresso

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : U GON CAHTC THSE HANDS

 **MemeChild** : Do you people don’t sleep

 **MemeChild** : It’s 3am for crying out loud

 **SeokjinFTW** : what are /YOU/ doing up

 **TaeTae** : whaht is sleep

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : nah

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : **_@smol & bitter_** im readyy 2 fite

**_MemeChild_ ** **changed their username to _will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers_**

**HO HO HO seokkie** : *gasp* TRAITORR

 **smol & bitter**: thanks, gukkie, hyung will treat you next time we go out

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : ♥

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : At this point I’m pretty sure I’m about 75% caffeine and 25% regrets, so that prevents sleep from actually winning me over **_@will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers_**

 **TaeTae** : oh no joonie-hyung whzt’s eht matter?

 **smol & bitter**: joon-ah has come to the realization that he maybe has feelings that transcend those of horniness and hunger

 **Jiminie Cricket** : what do /you/ know about those, Yoongi-hyung?

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : WHOA DRAG HIS ASS JIMINIE

 **TaeTae** : OH MY GOD

 **SeokjinFTW** : savage

**_will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb_ ** **_skewers_ changed _Jiminie Cricket_ ’s username to _dead and buried_**

**SeokjinFTW** : gukkie dont be a kiss-ass

 **dead and buried** : GUKKIE, HOW COULD YOU

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : You had it coming, Jiminie

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers: _@SeokjinFTW_** :^)

 **smol & bitter**: y’all are dead to me except guk

 **smol & bitter**: guk is the best thing that’s ever happened to me in this dead, cold world

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : :’(

 **smol & bitter**: suck it, hoe-seok

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : Oh snap, he went there

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : I love you, hyung ♥

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : the betrayal

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : my heart

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : i cri

 **smol & bitter**: anyhow

 **smol & bitter**: we were talking about joon-ah

 **smol & bitter**: who has been, to quote the superior jenner sister ‘realizing things and stuff’

 **SeokjinFTW** : wtf kendall is obviously the best sister wtf are you on, yoongichii

 **TaeTae** : LMAOOOOOOO kim slays all of them, lbr here

 **dead and buried** : i’ll have to go with Tae with this one

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : When don’t you

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : hear hear

 **dead and buried** : leave me be, you brat, i’m still your hyung

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : LOL you don’t even reach my chin

 **dead and buried** : I’M TALLER THAN YOONGI-HYUNG???? WHY DO YOU RESPECT HIM AND NOT ME???????

 **dead and buried** : ???????????

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : you meann vesides the obvious?

 **SeokjinFTW** : lol

 **SeokjinFTW** : spill the tea, hoseokkie

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : What is going on

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : SEOK-HYUNG I WILL END YOU ONCE AND FOR ALL

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : I SWEAR YOU’LL REGRET THE HOURS UPON HOURS THAT I’VE SPENT AT THE GYM

 **dead and buried** : wait, shouldn’t /i/ be saying that

 **dead and buried** : didn’t seok-hyung kinda insult /me/?

 **TaeTae** : donut sweat it, honeybun

 **dead and buried** : **_@TaeTae_** what do you know that i don’t

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : NOTHING AT ALL. RIGHT, **_@TaeTae_**?

 **TaeTae** : oh, would you look at htz hour

 **TaeTae** : shouldnt we go to sleep hahahahhahahhahah

 **dead and buried** : Kim Taehyung

 **smol & bitter**: does anyone in this godforsaken chat have an attention span that’s longer than 0.2 seconds, or am I finally gonna havta jump out of a fucking window

 **SeokjinFTW** : arent you amused by this all, yoongichii?

 **smol & bitter**: THAT IS NOT THE POINT

 **dead and buried** : lol hyung is losing his chill

 **TaeTae** : you say that as if he’s evr had any chill lmao

 **dead and buried** : TRu

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : welllllll

 **SeokjinFTW** : okay, okay, lets go back to the matter t hand before yoongichii blows a fuse

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : he cud blow something else ^^

 **dead and bitter** : someone*

 **TaeTae** : lmao

 **smol & bitter**: is2g

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : I’d prefer if we continued the usual nonsense **_@SeokjinFTW_**

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : Are you alright, Joonie-hyung?

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Yes

 **smol & bitter**: no

 **dead and buried** : so what’s the truth

 **smol & bitter**: mine, obviously

 **TaeTae** : lol

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : *sigh*

 **SeokjinFTW** : whats wrong, joonie? you can tell us

 **smol & bitter**: go on, kid

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : maybbe we can hekp?

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : help*

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : We’re here for you, hyungie ♥

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Thank you, guys

 **TaeTae** : <333333333

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : <3

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : So you all know Jacks, right?

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : I mean, Jackson*

 **TaeTae** : yeh

 **dead and buried** : ofc

 **SeokjinFTW** : we know of him, we know about him

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : Yes

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : wath about him?

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Uhm

 **smol & bitter**: go on, joon-ah, we got you

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : So

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : I may or may not… have…

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Perhaps

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Caught

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Feelings…

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : For my

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Fuck buddy

 **dead and buried** : oh

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Yeah

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : I’m screwed

 **TaeTae** : why’d ya say that

 **TaeTae** : justt tell him?

 **TaeTae** : tehn the only screwing going on will be u getting screwed by him into the matress or whaeva ur into

 **TaeTae** : :D

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : :D

 **SeokjinFTW** : theres more, isn’t there

 **smol & bitter**: it isn’t that simple, **_@TaeTae_** **_@HO HO HO seokkie_**

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : The thing is, this has been a purely physical thing since the beginning

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : I mean, we didn’t even fucking know each other’s name till the third time we hooked up

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : I just called him ‘Cheeky’, and he called me ‘darling’

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : das cute

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : So yeah

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : It’s been a ‘no-strings-attached’ kinda thing since the beginning, and I was the fucking moron that had to just… CATCH FEELINGS

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : BECAUSE HE’S NOT JUST HOT AS FUCK, HE’S ALSO SWEET AND CARING, AND SO KIND I JUST CAN’T DEAL WITH HIM. AND HE’S ALWAYS READY TO GIVE YOU HIS TIME WHEN YOU’RE UPSET EVEN THOUGH HE’S OFTEN BUSY BECAUSE HE STRESSES SO MUCH ABOUT UNI EVEN THOUGH HE SHOULDN’T BECAUSE HE’S SMART AND I WANNA KISS HIS STUPID LIPS EVERY TIME HE SPEAKS BUT I DON’T BECAUSE I WANT HIM TO KEEP TALKING ‘CAUSE HE HAS SUCH AN INTERESTING WAY OF LOOKING AT THINGS AND THAT MAKES ME PUT THE THINGS HE TALKS ABOUT INTO PERSPECTIVE AND JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ON A MOTHERFUCKING BIKE AAAAAHHHHHHHHH~

 **TaeTae** : r u ok

 **SeokjinFTW** : OHHHHHH

 **SeokjinFTW** : SO WE’RE TALKIN ABOUT MORE THAN JUST A CRUSHH

 **smol & bitter**: wasn’t that kind of obvious

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON HIS MAJESTIC THIGHS HOLY SHIT HE COULD CRUSH MY HEAD BETWEEN THEM AND I’D SAY THANK YOU AND PLEASE DO THAT AGAIN FUCK

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : How long have you been repressing those thoughts, hyung?

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : I SERIOUSLY MESSED UP SO BAD THE SECOND I AGREED TO KEEP THE ENTIRE THING CASUAL WHY AM I SO STUPID I JUST WANNA KISS HIM AND CUDDLE HIM AND TUCK HIM IN AND FUCK HIM SO NICELY HE JUST WANTS ME AND NOBODY ELSE

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : joonie

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : OR LET HIM FUCK ME, I DON’T CARE

 **smol & bitter**: let it all out, sweetheart

 **SeokjinFTW** : oh, baby

 **dead and buried** : :’(

 **TaeTae** : :’((((

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : Uhm, hyung? How are you so sure he doesn’t like you back like that?

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : yeh! as far as ive seen he looks at u like the sun shines out of your ass

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Because I’ve… I’ve tried to see if there was any chance he might fancy me too, and…

 **dimples so deep they’re full of** **secrets** : He looks at everyone like that, you know?

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : He looks at Mark like that when Mark makes him laugh with his dry humour; he looks like that at BamBam when BamBam does something remotely stupid; he looks at Jooheon like that when they talk about music together; he looks at Amber like that when Amber teases him

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : And let’s be real here

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : I can’t compare

 **smol & bitter**: i fucking digress

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : Same **_@smol & bitter_**

 **TaeTae** : JOONIE-HYUNG YOU ARE WONDERFUL AND IF JACKSON DOESN’T SEE THAT HE DOESN’T DESERVE YOU AT ALL

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : im with tae :’)

 **dead and buried** : well, it’s obvious what you have to do now, right?

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : no lol

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : Not really, care to explain?

 **dead and buried** : holy shit, guys

 **dead and buried** : it’s not that complicated

 **dead and buried** : joonie-hyung just needs to seduce Jackson-hyung

 **dead and buried** : DUH

 **TaeTae** : oh my god chim ur a genius

 **SeokjinFTW** : i approve :^)

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : OH YAAAAASSSS

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : Nice

 **SeokjinFTW** : he wont know what hit him

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : What

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Oh my god

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Jesus Christ on a bike, what are you guys on

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : **_@smol & bitter_** please tell them it’s a bad bad bad idea

 **smol & bitter**: uhm

 **smol & bitter**: actually…

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : omg

 **SeokjinFTW** : WAIT

 **smol & bitter**: i think… it may not be the worst idea?

 **TaeTae** : whoa that’s a fuckin stamp of approval i dunno what is

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : OH MY GODDD WRITE THIS D OWN TAKE A SCREENSHT OR TEN I NEED TO REMEMEBR THIS MOMENT FOR HTE REST OF MY LIFE

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : this is going dwn in history

 **dead and buried** : thank you, thank you

 **dead and buried** : i’m glad you all agree this is a brilliant plan

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : This is a terrible idea

 **SeokjinFTW** : you spelled terribly good* wrong

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : NO

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : Why not, hyung? I mean, it seems a pretty solid plan to me?

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Well, for starters, I don’t even know how to be anything close to even remotely seductive

 **SeokjinFTW** : oh my sweet cinnamon bun, thats what jiminie and i are here for, the master seducers

 **dead and buried** : my calling is here, I am ready

 **dead and buried** : I’ve been training all my life for this moment

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : im,, offended i dont fall into that category

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : im plenty seductive

 **TaeTae** : :^) same

 **SeokjinFTW** : seok-ah, sweetie, your method of seduction is going to the person you have your eye on and asking them without even faltering if they wanna fuck

 **SeokjinFTW** : which joonie has already covered

 **SeokjinFTW** : several times

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : wELL IT WORKED WHEN I NEEDED IT TO

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : SO ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 **smol & bitter**: … yeh

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : Wait, what? How do you know that, Yoongi-hyung?

 **dead and buried** : nothing, don’t worry, gukkie

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : But I wanna know?

 **SeokjinFTW** : anyhow, let us help you with this, joonie

 **TaeTae** : I wanna help toooooooooooo

 **TaeTae** : :DDDDD

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : If I say yes, it’ll come back to bite me in the butt

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : If I say no, it’ll /definitely/ come back to bite me in the butt

 **TaeTae** : so it’s the lesser of two evils. you know how this works, joonie-hyung, right? if youre not willing to lose, youre not willing to win anything either. youd get stuck in this bizarre limbo where there wouldntt be any change, and im guessing itd end up being a bigass ‘what if’ in your life

 **TaeTae** : so just go for itt :^)

 **smol & bitter**: listen to the kid, joon-ah

 **smol & bitter**: he might be onto something, you know how smart tae is

 **TaeTae** : <3 **_@smol & bitter_**

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : *sigh*

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : I know, I know, okay? It’ll haunt me for the rest of my life, I know how this goes. And yeah, ‘quién no arriesga, no gana’, but I’m still scared shitless

 **dead and buried** : we’ll help you out, hyung

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : u can count on uss

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : Yeah, don’t worry! In the unlikely case anything goes wrong, I’ll kick his ass ♥

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : That does make me feel better haha thank you, guys

 **SeokjinFTW** : so, what do you say? you in?

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Yeah, I’m in

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Please don’t make me regret this decision

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : :’c

 **dead and buried** : we won’t disappoint you!

 **TaeTae** : LET THE PLAN BEGIN

 **TaeTae** : CAN I NAME IT? PLS PLS PLS

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : i actually volunteer yoongles to abpptsie it

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : What the fuck is ‘abpptsie’ even

 **SeokjinFTW** : shit, how many times do i have to say this: no fucking cursing in this goddamn chat!!!!!

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Oh, the irony

 **SeokjinFTW** : besides, gukkie, don’t curse youre like 10

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : baptise* gdi

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : I’m 11, so shut the fuck up, **_@SeokjinFTW_**

 **dead and buried** : lmao your memes are so outdated hahahhahahahahha

 **TaeTae** : TRU

 **TaeTae** : good one tho lol

 **SeokjinFTW** : THIS BRAT

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : OH, THAT’S WHAT YOU MEANT **_@HO HO HO seokkie_**

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : yeah lmao

 **smol & bitter**: how about ‘roadtrip to hong kong’

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : One day you’ll stop bragging about your tongue technology

 **smol & bitter**: one day

 **smol & bitter**: but today ain’t that day

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : tommorw probably neither, i can vouch for that

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : hehehehehhehehehehe

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : Wait, what

 **TaeTae** : nothing

 **dead and buried** : nothing

 **SeokjinFTW** : nothing

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Nothing

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : actually… :^)

 **smol & bitter**: **_@HO HO HO seokkie_** choose your next words very carefully, babe

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : i love it when u talk dirty to me baby

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : **_@will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers_** nothign

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : I don’t know why, but I feel like you all know something I don’t

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : (・・？)

 **dead and buried** : whatever could possibly give you that feeling?

 **SeokjinFTW** : lol jimin

 **TaeTae** : hey look i found gukkie

 **TaeTae** : ɿ(｡･ɜ･)ɾ Ⓦⓗⓐⓣ？

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : LMAO

 **dead and buried** : /(⁎˃ᆺ˂)＼ bunny guk in his natural element

 **SeokjinFTW** : CUTE

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : Why a bunny????? Have you seen me????

 **smol & bitter**: lol

 **dead and buried** : exactly my point?????

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : ⁽⁽˙˟˙⁾⁾ small bunny, sleepy bunny

 **TaeTae** : LITTLE BALL OF FURR

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : ?????????

 **TaeTae** : ､., ⌒ ､., ⌒ ､., ⌒ ､., ⌒ ､., ⌒ ､., ⌒／(・ x ･)＼

 **TaeTae** : hopping away~

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : ?????????????????????????????????

 **SeokjinFTW** : sweet muscle-bun, so innocent

 **smol & bitter**: that was fun

 **smol & bitter**: anyhow

 **smol & bitter**: back to the matter at hand?

 **dead and buried** : right

 **dead and buried** : I approve the name

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : SAME

 **TaeTae** : ^

 **smol & bitter**: brilliant

 **smol & bitter**: any objections?

 **SeokjinFTW** : none whatsoever

 **TaeTae** : ^

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : Nope

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets:** I guess not?

 **smol & bitter**: fantastic

 **smol & bitter**: let operation ‘roadtrip to hong kong’ begin

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : God save my mortal soul

 **TaeTae** : so now you’re suddenly religious???

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : But guys, what’s it between Yoongi-hyung and Hobi-hyung?

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : Guys????? Anyone????

 **dead and buried** : gukkie, be a good bun and go to sleep, it’s fucking late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'roadtrip to hong kong'... seriously, yoongi? smh
> 
> also, poor clueless bunny hahhaha one day he'll discover what's going on lmao
> 
> ALSO HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN THE NAMSON INTERACTION DURING THE AMAS IM FUCKING YELLING


	12. Operation ‘Roadtrip to Hong Kong'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In other news: Operation ‘Roadtrip to Hong Kong’ is going to be the fucking death of him, that’s for damn sure. It’s going to send him just bam! straight into an early grave, and his mum will be sad because he never got to say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops_i_did_it_again.jpg  
> i disappeared for a month hahaha who would've guessed the pattern stays the same :] oH WELL AT LEAST IT'S HERE AT LAST thank u for ur patience xxxxxx
> 
> ♥

Now that he actually stands face to face with the consequences of his latest stupid judgement call, Namjoon realizes something that could probably save his life in the near future: he _really_ needs to stop making life-altering decisions at 4AM because, _honestly_ , who the fuck in this world is foolish enough to trust him to do anything remotely rational and responsible when he’s just one single cup of coffee shy from going into a full-blown cardiac arrest?

His friends, that’s who. Birds of a feather flock together, don’t they? No wonder they’re all still awake at the same time to come up with such absurd plans, and now Namjoon has to suck it up because he actually agreed and yeah, perhaps Jimin was truly onto something when he suggested Namjoon should try to seduce Jackson, but it still doesn’t mean he feels entirely sure about the entire fucking situation. He’s entitled to feel nervous, dammit.

In other news: Operation ‘Roadtrip to Hong Kong’ is going to be the fucking death of him, that’s for damn sure. It’s going to send him just _bam!_ straight into an early grave, and his mum will be sad because he never got to say goodbye.

(He’s glad about that part, though. He wouldn’t want the poor woman to see him in this current… state of distress). ( _“Fear, Joon-ah_ , _”_ supplies unhelpfully a voice in his head that sounds dangerously close to Yoongi’s, _“you’re afraid_. _But then again, fear is wisdom in the face of danger, so there’s that. Don’t be ashamed”_ ).

Namjoon’s ‘current state of distress’ ( _“it’s fucking fear. Don’t be a coward and admit it”_ ) happens to be standing in Seokjin’s bathroom, wearing nothing but his trusted baby blue sweatpants, and wildly brandishing a toothbrush in front of him, mimicking a sword – or dagger, or whatever weapon used to keep predators away in cases of extreme urgency – as he tries to keep an amused Jimin and a not-so-amused Seokjin at bay, trying (and failing) to keep them at a relatively safe distance away from him.

“Joonie, don’t be a fucking chicken shit, it’s not like it’s going to hurt. And _please_ lose that ridiculous goddamn toothbrush, do you really think it would do any harm? I work out for a fucking reason, this is just adding insult to injury,” whines an exasperated Seokjin, bristling when Namjoon raises the toothbrush so it points at his face instead of his chest.

“Try me, hyung!”

“Joonie, I swear to _fucking_ god!”

“That’s sacrilegious, hyung!”

“What’s sacrilegious is that a grown-ass adult like yourself is _afraid_ of a little bit of fucking change,” retorts Seokjin without missing a beat. “It’s just hair dye. Besides! You’re an agnostic!”

“My point stands!”

“Your point is fucking ridiculous!”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not!”

“Kim Namjoon!”

“Please, hyung?” interrupts Jimin sweetly, stepping forward towards Namjoon with a smile that clashes in a beautifully paradoxical way with the wicked glint in his eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal, and you’ll look extra handsome. Won’t he, Jinnie-hyung?”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him for the last forty minutes –” complains Seokjin, and his whining turns into a groan when Namjoon slowly drops the toothbrush. “I can’t fucking believe this, oh my _god_ , how do you even do it, Jimin?”

The youngest raises one sharp eyebrow with a triumphant smirk on his pretty lips, and brushes his hair back with his fingers. “I don’t know why, hyung, but nobody can resist the cuteness.”

“Can’t resist the cuteness,” mumbles Namjoon, staring dazedly at the box of hair dye in Seokjin’s hand. “What the fuck,” he whispers.

“You’re welcome, hyung,” says Jimin to Seokjin, solemnly adding a tiny, somewhat flamboyant bow for effect.

“Unbelievable,” mutters Seokjin with a little shake of his head, and then he’s rolling up the sleeves of his sweater, ready to work his magic.

***

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” explains Seokjin, sitting on the lid of the toilet with his knees pulled up to his chest, while Jimin washes the colourful dye out of Namjoon’s hair. “I recently – like, yesterday, basically – spoke to Hyunwoo, who said that Hyungwon told him that Chankyung had been hanging with Yugyeom – who’s friends with Jeonggukkie, by the way – and Jooheon when Jooheon mentioned something about Jackson wanting to go to a party that Minho and Junmyeon were planning on throwing for Taehyungie’s birthday on New Year’s, right?”

“You lost me at Hyungwon,” admits Namjoon earnestly, spluttering when a bit of water runs into his nose. “But I think I got the all information I needed... Why do I need it, again?” he adds after a short complentative silence.

“The party is in two days, right? And it’s the perfect place to debut your improved self,” pipes Jimin in, sounding giddy. “Half of the guests won’t be able to look away once we’re done with you, and you can bet your lovely albeit skinny ass that Jackson-hyung will be one of them. Guaranteed.”

“But, Jiminie, I want Jacks to like me as, as I am,” says Namjoon, hating the self-doubt and hesitance he’s unable to filter out his voice. _Weak_ , his brain scoffs.

“Sweetheart, you’re already gorgeous,” answers Jimin honestly, running a soothing hand down his back. “We’re not changing you, hyung. Hell, I downright _refuse_ to do that, fuck. We’re just going to enhance a little bit what you already have going on for you, because _fuck_ if you aren’t the prettiest canvas I’ve worked on in a very long time.”

“Jiminie is right, Joon,” adds Seokjin, smiling softly.

“I’m going to cry,” sniffles Namjoon. “Or puke, I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, that was pretty gay,” admits Jimin easily, chuckling as he turns the faucet to close it, stepping back as he reaches for a towel to dry Namjoon’s hair.

“We’re literally helping Joonie getting a boyfriend, Jimin-ah, it doesn’t get any gayer than that.”

“True.”

                                                     ***

Leaning against the bar, Namjoon surveys the situation: loud music, rattling the walls like an echo in a tunnel. The funnel of a tornado, right in his ears, too loud. Shots lined up like a platoon across the bar. Beer bottles on the floor, plastic cups sweating from the ice but glowing neon from the liquor under the flashing lights. Cherries soaked in amber, lemon wedges dropped into a sea of vodka.

An acidic taste every time he licks his lips, from the sweat and the mists of perfume and the flavourless beer.

He feels a little bit out of place with his pink hair carefully styled to make it look casually wet, with his tight – so fucking tight, what the _fuck_ , he doesn’t even know how Hoseok convinced him to wear them – leather pants sticking to his legs like a second skin, with a white t-shirt with a collar so stretched out that it won’t stop slipping off his shoulder.

He chews on his pink bottom lip with anxious teeth, looking around. He sniffs, shoulders tight, leaning over the bar. The songs switch too quickly, everything bass-heavy and noisy.

Too noisy for comfort.

Namjoon hasn’t been paying attention to his surroundings, not completely, but he glances around, wild eyes and sharp eyebrows. He’s narrowing his eyes at the crowd, soaking in the music, a small shuffle-like dance when he spots Jackson, and his breathing gets stuck in his lungs.

Because Jackson is wearing immaculate, dark designer jeans and a long-sleeved, deep V shirt that would be scandalous if he had cleavage, and he’s talking to a pretty girl with a wild afro, an easy-going smile on his lips and a red solo cup of something in his hand while he uses the other to gesticulate wildly, no doubt adding a dramatic effect to the story he’s telling. He’s about to turn his head towards where Namjoon is standing like a statue, when Namjoon feels his stomach plummet in nervousness.

And suddenly Namjoon’s shoved between two bodies, the music too loud for him to think properly. Stretched across front of him there’s a beautiful boy with glow-in-the-dark blue eyes, white-blonde hair, and pale skin. His arms are draped loosely over Namjoon’s shoulders, whose hands go instinctively to hold the beautiful boy’s waist so their hips are never too far apart. The blond boy’s a mess of giggles, half-lidded eyes, sharp canines holding down his red bottom lip.

He doesn’t look harmless – far from it, in fact, a certain glowy sheen on his skin and a puckish trait to his sharp smile that add an edge to his otherwise ethereal features -, and his eyes keep flickering over Namjoon’s face like ‘let’s get outta here’ is waiting on his tongue.

Behind Namjoon, it’s a little needier. Lustful. His shoulders are broad. He’s got large, strong hands mapping out Namjoon’s sharp hips, dragging Namjoon back on the obvious erection in his slim-fit trousers. He’s got short hair, dark eyes like mahogany, skin like honey. His shirt is halfway undone and Namjoon wonders when _that_ happened.

“Hi,” the man behind him says, voice deep and breath hot against the shell of Namjoon’s ear. “I’m Hyunwoo, and that’s Minhyuk.”

Those name ring a few bells in his mind, and he nods slightly as the familiar feeling of doom nestles itself in his tummy. “Did Seokjin ask you to do this?” he asks, voice rising to be heard over the loudness of the beats, and when Hyunwoo exhales a small grunt of affirmation, he relaxes into their touch and nods. “I’m Namjoon, pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is _all_ ours, honey,” purrs Minhyuk, pressing himself a bit better to Namjoon’s front, his hips moving dangerously closer, their belt buckles chiming together. The beautiful boy breaks character briefly when Namjoon feels his ears burning, and Minhyuk smiles goofily at him, wriggles his eyebrows like ‘maybe we could’. “If your plan with loverboy doesn’t work out, you’re more than welcome to join us tonight, sweetheart. We could make you feel good.”

Namjoon chokes out a laugh, deciding he likes Minhyuk, and makes a sound of easy non-commitment, following the easy grinding the two men he’s squeezed between dictate, finding himself having more fun than he would’ve hoped. They are truly amazing dancers.

When he turns his head and meets Jackson’s heated glare, Namjoon’s blood turns hot, electricity in his veins, and his breathing accelerates. He wants to look away but he doesn’t. He can’t. It’s mental, the entire scene, the way the music taunts with its constant ‘ _it’s not your fault that they hover, I mean no disrespect_ ’ in his ears.

There’s a tray of tequila shots passed around and Namjoon’s eyes find Jackson’s as Hyunwoo’s pink tongue extends to lick a trail of salt off Namjoon’s neck. He can _feel_ the way Jackson hungrily eyes the veins sticking out under his skin as he tips his head backwards with laughter. Hyunwoo chases the salt with the shot and Minhyuk’s hands are everywhere – the belt loops of Namjoon’s ripped jeans, up his ribs, across his chest.

It’s between the grinding, the hands, Hyunwoo whispering in Namjoon’s ear that his breath catches hot and sharp in his chest. When Jackson’s eyes meet his again from halfway across the room, and Namjoon smirks with dark eyes, a red mouth, sweat sliding off his skin like collected raindrops down the storm drain, the other boy begins to make his way towards them, and Namjoon feels a shudder of excitement creeping up his spine.

Jackson is a couple of meters away when, suddenly, a wild Taehyung appears on his right, throwing an arm around his shoulders and effectively stopping him from reaching where Namjoon is still being sandwiched between Hyunwoo and Minhyuk. The kid has a big grin on his face, but the mischievous glint in his eyes shines even brighter as he leans in to whisper something to Jackson. The scowl on the latter’s face deepens as whatever Taehyung just told him sinks in, and he shrugs Taehyung’s arm off his shoulders, decided to step in, when Jimin appears on Jackson’s other side, wearing an identical shit-eating grin to Taehyung.

That’s exactly the moment Minhyuk decides to step up their game, and he pushes – with his wicked hips – Namjoon harder against Hyunwoo’s broad chest, pink tongue dipping into the hollow of Namjoon’s throat, forcing out a stuttered groan from the latter.

Unsure how it happens, there’s a tight grip around Namjoon’s wrist, and he’s pulled away from Hyunwoo and Minhyuk. Suddenly, there’s Jackson’s lips pressing harshly against his, and Jackson’s hands slipping into his back pockets, and Jackson’s hard chest against his own. It’s all Jackson Jackson _Jackson_ — it’s overwhelming in the most delicious sense of the word; rough in a way that he hasn’t felt Jackson for a long time now, but passionate like always; it’s thorough and deep and _so_ _good_ ; it’s the clashing of spit-slick lips and the nipping on skin of sharp teeth.

Next thing they know Jackson is dragging him outside by the hand.

They dance through the streets, the rain not pelting but it’s slick and shiny against their skin. Namjoon nibbles on his bottom lip, never letting Jackson’s hand go as he’s dragged by him to a nearby streetlight. There’s a seriousness in Jackson’s eyes, a wide smile spread across his lips and it’s fucking frustrating the way he’s sunk so deep beneath Namjoon’s skin with just the way he looks at him that Namjoon isn’t able to imagine anyone else when he closes his eyes. They stare up at the sky, the billions (probably more, definitely more) of things stuck up there staring back down at them. It makes Namjoon feel powerful, to be a part of this, to be another living thing in the vast, unreachable universe. He feels Jackson beside him, and it feels like they’re two pieces of a bigger whole, connected like a constellation, like their own Orions and Andromedas.

Namjoon tugs Jackson away from the light, blinks up at the sky to try and catch the stars again, but suddenly the clouds are too thick, the night too dark. He’s dragged by Jackson down a few streets until they’re on a more crowded one, still holding tightly to Jackson’s hand as he hails a cab, nudges him inside first before falling in behind him with laughter.

They’re calm the whole ride, sitting just close enough that it doesn’t look suspicious but not too far that Namjoon can’t rest his fingers on Jackson’s knee, drumming along to the beat in his head. And Jackson, he’s looking out the window, cheeks flushed but with calm eyes like he’s trying to hold it all in but doing a horrible job at all. But Namjoon notices when Jackson sneaks a hand over his, sketching his fingers over Namjoon’s, tracing the bumps of his knuckles, the scars, the length of his nimble fingers.

Namjoon’s digging into the pockets of his jacket to pull out what money he has left but Jackson beats him to it, pays the cab driver and smiles brightly at him when Namjoon gapes at him. There’s shrug of those broad shoulders before Jackson’s embracing him, lips crushed to Namjoon’s and Namjoon smiles into the kiss this time. They’re drunk, yes, on nothing but their own excitement, letting the rain leave little beads of water along their cheeks as they kiss like that, Namjoon smirking when Jackson tightens his grip on his leaner frame. He doesn’t think he’ll ever want to escape this feeling.

The cab hasn’t even left yet and Jackson’s fingers are fumbling, searching for the keys to his flat. They’re dragging their lips over each other with laughter up the stairs, almost tripping four times, hands tangled as they push toward the door. Namjoon nearly loses a shoe as Jackson pushes him up against the wall, his leg lifting and Jackson’s cupping the back of his thigh, grinding Namjoon into that wall until Namjoon feels every bit of what Jackson wants to show him down there. And he’s tipping his head back, gasping when Jackson’s teeth sink into his neck, lips kissing the swollen flesh tender. Namjoon’s nails scratch along Jackson’s neck, Jackson hissing before grinning, tilting his head up to press rough kisses to his lips until they’re swollen and raw.

It’s a tangled mess when they trip inside, Jackson leading Namjoon in the dark and they stumble more than a few times on the way to bedroom. Namjoon flicks off his shoes somewhere near the couch, Jackson tugging off his shirt and dropping it on the arm of a chair. Namjoon kisses along Jackson’s neck in the doorway, tongue slipping along the rain, the saltiness of the boy’s sweat, the sweetness of his skin making his tongue numb. He breathes Jackson in, more than likes the way Jackson’s a little musky and the headiness sends a shiver right along the bottom of his spine.

“Bed,” Jackson moans, tangling his fingers into Namjoon’s damp hair, pulling his head down until they’re kissing again.

“Clothes,” he demands in exchange, along Jackson’s mouth, “fucking off.”

The other boy laughs, nods but doesn’t stop kissing until Namjoon nips at the edge of his tongue, fumbling with the button of Jackson’s jeans while Jackson finishes off those last few buttons of his own shirt. He pushes Namjoon back, into the dark room and, fuck it, they’re not even going to bother with the lights. Part of Namjoon wants to see Jackson in the light, admire every strip of that skin, muscle, of that perfectly fit body. He smiles around a knowledge and hope that he’ll maybe see it in the morning light. Like he could possibly stay the night, wake up tangled in Jackson’s sheets smelling like his cologne and, even more, smelling like his body spent a few hours too many rubbing along his.

When Namjoon disentangles himself from his shirt, Jackson flicking his trousers open before working on Namjoon’s, he takes a moment to kiss the other boy properly. It’s slow, oh, so languid and it pulls him apart from his toes upward. There’s just a slip of tongue, lips rubbing together until he’s gasping for air, Jackson smiling gently before he’s pushing Namjoon back, dragging down his trousers and kicking them aside.

There’s just enough light from the moon outside slipping into the room and Namjoon can see Jackson pulling down his boxers, listen to Jackson’s quiet pants from too far away.

And then Jackson hooks his fingers into the waistband of Namjoon’s boxers as he gently pushes him back on the bed, pulling it down until it’s tangling around Namjoon’s thighs and he does the rest, pushes it further down and toes it off the bed. He tries to steady himself as Jackson scoots backwards towards the headboard, Jackson catching him before he tumbles and they’re all smiles beneath the flickering moonlight before he’s leaning in to capture his lips.

Namjoon pushes Jackson downward, the thud of his head smacking the headboard with a groan distracting Namjoon briefly before he’s making up for it with kisses along the other boy’s neck, right along his collarbone with his eyes lidded. He’s fervent with his lips, alternating between soft kisses and small bites to a rough drag with fingers digging into Jackson’s sides until Jackson’s running a hand through Namjoon’s thick hair, massaging gently against his scalp and Namjoon knows he’s forgiven before Jackson flips them over.

Jackson’s lips trail down Namjoon’s stomach and he spreads his legs wider, his hand on top of Jackson’s head as if to encourage him to move down to the area where he needs him. The blond’s lips are soon there and he’s biting Namjoon’s hips and kissing along his pelvic bone.

The rest is lost in a haze of pleasure.

***

**_Chat: Loser Line 2.0_ **

**dead and buried** : mission accomplished :^)

 **SeokjinFTW** : do u think it worked???

 **TaeTae** : YEH

 **smol & bitter**: please elaborate

 **dead and buried** : he didn’t seem happy – like, at all – about joonie-hyung potentially fucking (or being fucked by) minhyuk and hyunwoo lol

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : nice >:)

 **TaeTae** : he fuckin freaked!!!!!! It waS BAEUTIFUL :’)

 **dead and buried** : pretty sure he dropped whomever he was talking to

 **TaeTae** : and me and chim had t hold him bakc

 **dead and buried** : his eyes were almost popping out of his skull

 **TaeTae** : nd if glares cud kill, hyunwoo n minhyuk wud b DED

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : >:)

 **TaeTae** : >:)

 **SeokjinFTW** : kids

 **dead and buried** : >:)

 **smol & bitter**: -___-‘

 **will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers** : >:)

 **SeokjinFTW** : sigh

 **SeokjinFTW** : >:)

***

Namjoon groans as he wakes up, and a moment later he sighs, slowly opening his eyes.

He looks down and his heart tapdances out of control in his chest, skipping a beat, because his and Jackson’s fingers are knotted on his stomach, and their legs are entwined. He can feel Jackson’s body spooning him from behind. It feels like leaning back against a warm wall of strength.

He gulps and closes his eyes again. If only things were different; if only this was an already established acceptable routine between them. If only they’d done things differently.

As he slowly starts to trace Jackson’s fingers with the tips of his own, he wonders. If he didn’t speak up, if things continued the way they’re going now… would it really be so bad if he stayed? Would Namjoon be okay being just… fuck buddies? Friends with benefits?

Would he be satisfied? Happy?

 

 

 

No.

No, he wouldn’t.

Namjoon knows himself pretty well by now, and he’s sure he’d just be _unsatisfied_. He knows that getting a taste of what it could be would absolutely wreck him emotionally, thirsting for more more _more_ , aware he could never fully earn that undivided affection. And what then? Stay around until Jackson finds someone he’s truly invested in? No, Namjoon shouldn’t do that. Could, perhaps, but shouldn’t. Not after the years and years it has taken him to come to the point where he can proudly say he’s very close to loving himself just the way he is; not after the constant struggle he’s had since his early teens. It’s something he can’t risk, not now, not like this. Namjoon is afraid it will all crumble down like a house of cards confronted with a slight breeze, and he’s _selfish_. He can’t let that happen.

That depressing train of thought is interrupted by his body, that remind him he needs to drink water but, firstly – and most importantly –, he needs to pee.

He struggles to free himself from Jackson’s tight grip, and when he manages to slip off the bed, he stands still at the end of the mattress, looking with a fond smile to the figure sprawled out under the covers.

“Close the door when you leave, will you, darling?” mumbles Jackson without even lifting his head from where it’s smushed against the pillows. “And tell Mark I’m alive and well enough. And oh, tell him that I’m willing to cuddle until the sun goes down, too. He’s welcome if he wants. Thanks.”

Namjoon’s heart drops to his stomach, and he swallows with difficulty around the knot that suddenly constricts his throat.

“O-okay,” he mutters softly, hating how hoarse his voice sounds. “Bye.”

God, how _stupid_ he feels. How could he _possibly_ think Jackson would actually want him to stay to cuddle? When did he make the mistake of becoming so confident he actually believed they could have this, a comfortable _domestic_ morning, like a _real_ couple? How stupid can he _be_? How naïve?

There’s something bitter burning in the back of his throat, and his heart feels impossibly heavy, contrasting paradoxically with the aching and hollow sensation nestled in his chest as he gets dressed as fast as possible and closes the door softly behind him. The knot constricting his breathing doesn’t loosen up as he walks down the corridor towards the kitchen, where he hears Mark softly humming, probably making breakfast.

“Good morning, Namjoon-ah,” greets Mark as soon as he spots the younger man, a kind smile curving his lips. “You’re up early.”

“So are you, hyung,” answers Namjoon, smiling uneasily, eyes darting around the kitchen to avoid Mark’s heavy and knowing gaze.

“Well, yeah, but I didn’t have such a… wild and interesting night as you two,” Mark answers, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “You want breakfast?”

Namjoon shakes his head, feeling sick. He’s not sure he could even stomach a goddamn cup of fucking _coffee_ right now, for crying out loud. “Uh, no, I’ve… I’ve apparently overstayed my welcome,” he answers softly, shrugging his shoulders in a what-can-you-do-about-it way, his eyes looking at a spot to the left of Mark’s head. He’s not certain he manages to keep all of the bitterness from staining his voice and words, but he forces himself to sound as indifferent as he can. “’S okay, thank you, anyways. Jacks – I mean, Jackson, he says he’s alive and well, and that, uhm, that you were invited to cuddle with ‘im? Yeah, that’s what he said, so. I’ll be going now, wouldn’t wanna stay in your hair too long anyways, yeah. Thanks, though. I, I appreciate it, hyung, honestly. See ya. Maybe. Well, bye.”

Without really waiting for an answer from the other boy, Namjoon scurries away and manages to put on his combat boots without tripping over the laces before Mark has time to sputter out a proper reply.

The door to the flat slams shut, and Namjoon pulls his almost-dead phone from the pocket of his leather jacket, ignoring the lewd and suggestive and encouraging messages the guys have sent to ‘Loser Line 2.0’, and writing his own message.

 

**_Chat: Loser Line 2.0_ **

**dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : It

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : It didn’t work

 **dead and buried** : oh?

 **smol & bitter**: what happened

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : r u okay???

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : No

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : I woke up and we were cuddling and everything was going swell but then I had to go to the bathroom and got up and he didn’t even look at me when he asked if I could close the door when I left and also if I could tell Mark-hyung that he was okay and alive and willing to cuddle with /him/

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : He didn’t even fucking say goodbye

 **smol & bitter**: i’m going to fucking kill him

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : So yeah, I’m not okay because after last night I thought he actually cared??? And now I see how foolish I’ve been???

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Am, still

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Whatever

 **TaeTae** : iM GOING TO FIGHT MHI WTF HO W DARE HEE

 **dead and buried** : I’m with u hyung **_@smol & bitter_**

 **SeokjinFTW** : where are you now, joonie?

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : i secondd that **_@dead and buried_**

 **TaeTae** : I THRIFD THA T

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : On my way home

 **SeokjinFTW** : do yu need anything?

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Besides an hour long hug? Not really. Perhaps a little bit of space

 **smol & bitter**: i can do that

 **smol & bitter**: the hug thing, i mean

 **TaeTae** : **_@smol & bitter_** yuo are our hope, pls make joonie-hyung feel better

 **TaeTae** : **_@dimples so deep they’re full of secrets_** text us when u feel better, ok? we’ll come over wth food and blankets and wE’LL MAKE A FORT

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Will do, Tae ♥

 **TaeTae** : ♥

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : as a Roommate™ i have the rightt to join teh hug

 **dead and buried** : please feel better soon, hyung, we love you

 **SeokjinFTW** : yeah, joonie, rest a bit

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : DON’T SAY THAT

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : I’M IN PUBLIC I DON’T WANNA CRY HERE

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : I don’t fucking deserve you guys

 **smol & bitter**: no talk of that in my chat

 **smol & bitter**: not on /my/ watch

 **smol & bitter**: you deserve the fucking world

 **smol & bitter**: and if that moron isn’t able to give it to you, he doesn’t deserve you. period.

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : YEAH BABYBOY

 **SeokjinFTW** : yoongichii saying it like it is

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : I’m hurrying now, I was promised cuddles

 **TaeTae** : PRE CIOU S

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh bOY what will happen now???  
> :o
> 
> here's to hoping for a swifter update nxt time!!!! ♥


	13. January: the First Half

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first half of January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

**Jacks [14:37]**

darling

haven’t heard from you in a couple of days

hope you’re okay!!

**Darling** **♥** **[15:23]**

I’m alright, I guess

Been busy

Sorry

**Jacks [15:24]**

that’s okay!!!

hmu when you’re free :) x

**Darling** **♥** **[15:43]**

Will do


	14. January: the Second Half

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second half of January

**Jacks [21:07]**

joon-aaaaaah

i sorta miss youuu :(

haven’t seen your beautiful face in two weeks :///

i’m having withdrawal symptons!! haha

 **Darling** **♥** **[21:26]**

Sorry, it’s been a hectic couple of weeks!

**Jacks [21:27]**

wanna come over and

watch a movie, or something?

markie s not home!!

 **Darling** **♥** **[21:32]**

Oh

Uhm

Not really in the mood, sorry

I have a bad headache

I think I’m just gonna go to sleep

**Jacks [21:33]**

oh

want me to come over with soup or something?

:o

 **Darling** **♥** **[21:37]**

Nah, it’s okay

I’ll sleep it off

**Jacks [21:37]**

okayyy :((((

**♥**

**Darling ♥ [21:39]**

Thanks

 

 

**Jacks [03:12]**

i miss yuo

_read: 03:16_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i aM NOT SORRY


	15. A Phone Call Away?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s unsure about how many more minutes have passed when Jeongguk speaks up out of the blue.  
> “How do you feel tonight, in general?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an update so soon?? the miracles haven't disappeared from this earth yet!!!! :D

It’s 2 AM.

It’s 2 AM and Namjoon has stumbled upon a fascinating train of thought he finds himself fully willing to entertain and investigate in more depth for as long as his high lasts, and it goes like this: there’s a very distinctive pattern in his day-to-day life where he ends up regretting an alarming amount of things that seem like compelling choices the moment in which he needs to make a decision but that, in retrospect, turn out to cause him more grief than they’re worth. Which is profoundly dissatisfying, really. The aftermath of things is something he always takes into consideration — he likes to consider all the ways something can go wrong before doing The Thing anyway. It’s a matter of principle. Namjoon is not really an impulse kinda dude — well, okay, maybe sometimes he is, but at least he’s logical about most things.

So. Logically, Namjoon is screwed.

 

The flat smells like warm biscuits and weed and strong tea and thick body spray instead of proper cologne, and Namjoon loves it.         

He adores the cosy couch in the living room, with its soft cushions, and the way it melts around all of his limbs when he slumps down on it. He loves the flat screen on the wall and the way he can be sat for hours with his feet propped up, watching reruns of Breaking Bad while Yoongi and Hoseok shove salty crisps in their mouth.

Now, late at night, there’s a quiet that Namjoon hasn’t had in a long time. Too many things to do, too many thoughts tumbling around in his mind without the energy to analyse them properly.

Lying with his head on Jeongguk’s lap, the subtle light of the moon casting long shadows of venetian curtains across their faces, Namjoon ponders about it all. Slender fingers brush softly through his hair, massaging his scalp, and the haziness of his high drowns out the white noise of the telly playing old reruns of some show or another in the background.

They’re on their fourth – or fifth – shared joint, and neither he nor Jeongguk find themselves urged to fill in the comfortable silence hanging like thick smoke between them. Deeply immersed in their own thoughts, they simply enjoy each other’s quiet company.

He’s unsure about how many more minutes have passed when Jeongguk speaks up out of the blue.

“How do you feel tonight, in general?”

“Like shit,” Namjoon answers honestly after a contemplative pause, wincing at how croaky his voice sounds after an hour of silence. “I guess I blame myself for all the pains and struggles I’ve been through in my life because at the end of the day I control what I allow, what I do and how I handle things.”

There’s a long moment of silence where both boys think about it.

“All blame is a waste of time, hyung. No matter how much fault you find in yourself and regardless of how much you blame him, it will not change you,” Jeongguk mutters, playing with a loose thread of his jumper. “The only thing blame does is to keep the focus off you when you are looking for external reasons to explain your unhappiness or frustration. You may succeed in making yourself feel guilty about something, but you won’t succeed in changing whatever it is about you that’s making you unhappy.”

No words are spoken for long minutes.

“Sometimes it’s easier to believe it’s something you did than face the crushing weight of your utter vulnerability…” Namjoon ponders, quietly. “Another person’s actions make us unhappy only if we allow them to stimulate a negative response in us, is what you’re saying?”

“Yeah, basically.”

They both fall quiet at that.

“Need a cig,” Namjoon says, rolling off the couch and away from Jeongguk. He makes himself comfortable on the sill of the wide window, the cool air from outside prickling goosebumps across Jeongguk’s skin even from where he stays on the sofa. After a few minutes, Namjoon’s expression turns into something a little softer, maybe even regretful before he stubs out his cigarette and climbs from the window sill, making his way back to the couch.

“Have you even spoken to Jackson-hyung since New Year’s?” asks Jeongguk when Namjoon is about to light the last joint he’s just rolled. “Properly, I mean. Had a conversation with ‘im like the two grown-ass men you are.”

“Briefly. Through text. I dunno what to say to ‘im,” mutters Namjoon, flicking his lighter, inhaling a puff as soon as the joint is lit. “‘M not the best at facing things head-on, y’ know? I’ve tried, yeah, but—”.

He sighs.

“Do you want to talk about it?” the younger suggests casually. Softly.

Namjoon shakes his head. “I don’t get that,” he says. “I don’t get why people think you can solve your problems by talking about them. Why talking about something will make you feel better. Like sharing your thoughts and your feelings will change them. Will change anything. It doesn’t, and it’s fucking annoying that everyone keeps forcing me to do it.”

“Sorry, hyung.”

Namjoon exhales a load of smoke into the air. “Not your fault, Guk, I’m just— strung out is perhaps the most accurate definition. ‘M sorry I answered so rudely, you’ve got nothing but good intentions. ‘M sorry I took it out on you, you’re good. Please forgive me.”

“‘S okay, I forgive you. ‘S just— I hate seeing you sad.”

“I hate being sad.”

A beat of silence.

“Do you think human nature is good or evil? I mean, do you think people are basically good, with— with a few bad tendencies, or basically bad, with a few good tendencies? Or, as a third possibility, do you think people are just crazy, and who knows why they do anything? So, what do you think? Are people good, bad, or downright crazy?”

“You’re so fucking high, hyung, shut up,” mutters Jeongguk, shoving Namjoon off the couch. He falls on the ground with a loud yelp.

 

 

 

Jeongguk’s somehow ended up wrapped around Namjoon and it’s almost certain Namjoon is the only thing keeping him from falling over. “Think I need t’ go and lay down. Please lemme sleep in your bed, hyungie. I’ll be good.”

“Okay. You gonna have to remember how to walk though, baby.”

Jeongguk stares at his feet with an impressive intensity. “Yeah. I can probably do that.”

It turns out that he can’t, in fact, do that. But Namjoon manages to half-drag him to his bedroom, somehow, giggling along with Jeongguk’s soft singing.

“You want helping getting to bed?” Namjoon asks as they stand in the doorway of Namjoon’s bedroom together. Jeongguk is slumped against Namjoon’s side and his mouth tastes of stale smoke. It’s kind of terrible.

“I can do it,” Jeongguk says firmly. To prove it, he lets go of Namjoon. He flails for about two seconds before he finds his balance and turns to grin at the other boy in victory.

“All right. Well, I’ll be with you in a couple of minutes,” Namjoon smiles, scratching his chin. “I need to find my phone. Think I lost it somewhere on the couch.”

“Come back soon, hyungie,” Jeongguk sing-songs, waddling over to the bed. “I’ll try to wait awake. Can’t guar— garan?— ugh, can’t _promise_ anything, though!”

With a fond shake of his head — which perhaps isn’t his best idea to date, because now everything in the room is _spinning_ , what the absolute fuck, — Namjoon walks off into the corridor and goes in search of his phone. He finds it on the couch, hidden between two hideous cushions Hoseok _insisted_ on buying because _c’mon, guys, this is pretty_ and _artsy, for fuck’s sake, we need something to brighten up the living room!_

(The bastard was right, somehow, because no matter how _ugly_ the designs on the orange cushions were, and how much Namjoon complained about the ruined monochromatic Aesthetic™, the living room certainly looked livelier than it did before).

(The only reason Yoongi agreed on buying those monstrosities was because it had been fucking Hoseok making Bambi eyes at him and Yoongi is a weak man, no matter how vehemently he complains that _they aren’t that bad once you get used to them, why are you talking about fucking favouritism, Joon-ah? Piss off, you heathen, I am a grown-ass man and I am perfectly capable of saying ‘no’ to Seok when it matters, okay?_ ).

(Which is bullshit, if you ask Namjoon, because like _hell_ he can. Yoongi is a weak weak _weak_ man and, up to this day, Namjoon has yet to find something Yoongi isn’t willing to do for Hoseok. Namjoon hasn’t forgiven Yoongi yet for giving in so easily, and now he has to suffer every day when he lays his eyes on the orange cushions. Not like he dares to throw them away, god, no, — he genuinely, honest-to-god hates them, but he also appreciates his head attached to his neck, thank you very much, — so he simply tries to glare holes into the ugly patters, hoping for some sort of miracle and ultimately resigning himself when it doesn’t actually work).

Unlocking it, he sees the battery is almost out of juice, and he only has one notification on his screen. He opens the snap from Jackson, and smiles softly when he sees the exaggerated duckface.

He feels the sudden urge to call Jackson, to tell him that he misses him, and before he knows it, he’s pressing the call-button.

The first time the call goes to voicemail, Namjoon hangs up, dejected. Maybe it’s a sign from the universe to just give up, he ponders, worrying his lip with his teeth. But then again… Maybe it’s finally the opportunity that Namjoon has been hoping for these past couple of weeks – the opportunity to just, come clean.

The opportunity to talk without interruption, to allow the words that get stuck in his throat to pour out without restriction.

Bracing himself, he clenches the phone in his hand, and presses the ‘call’ button again, inhaling deeply as he tries the channel the nervousness burning in his veins into courage to speak his mind and pour out his heart.

He waits impatiently while it rings, and when the ringing stops he doesn’t even wait for the female voice to announce voicemail before starting to speak.

(That’s perhaps the reason he misses the soft intake of breath when he starts talking).

“Hey, Jacks… how’re you— fuck, never mind, that’s stupid, I’m— I don’t know why I’m even calling you, to be quite honest, like… Goddammit, I just fucking miss you, you fucking asshole, I just— it’s 3 AM and I fucking miss you. It’s been a while since we last talked— twenty-four days now, to be exact. But who’s counting, right? I’m not sure why I’m even telling you this now when I know you’ll probably never actually answer to it but I guess I just wanted to get this off my chest, you know? We both— we both knew what we were getting into when we started this. And yet, _fuck_ , I still allowed the wall I’d spent so long building, to be torn down by your voice. You’ll probably ask me why I let you in. I guess I don’t know. I— I miss you, that’s the first thing I need you to know. Those memories we made, they mean everything to me and it cuts vein-deep to know we’ll probably never make more of them… they had to mean something to you too, right? I’m not going crazy? You actually liked having me around, right? I don’t even know what to believe anymore, honestly— fuck, what am I even doing…

“… if somebody asked me about you, I’d tell them— I’d tell them that being around you makes me want to jump off buildings because I believe the butterflies I feel in my stomach will help me fly. I’d tell them how I was _afraid_ to make eye contact with you the first time I saw you because, _fuck_ , my mother always warned me to never stare directly into the sun. I’d tell them how every time you speak to me I can hear a thumping in my chest like I’m front row at a rock concert but it’s only just your voice spinning melodies around my head until I’m dizzy. I’d tell them that I was in love with you. That I _knew_ I was in love with you. That I know I’m still in love with you, even though— even though I sometimes can’t even tell what I feel. I can’t even tell if it’s good or bad…

“You scare the hell out of me and calm my soul at the same time, Jacks. Maybe that’s what love is— a total contradiction that somehow balances out. And it just fucking _sucks_ because I know if I had to chance to restart my life knowing everything I know now, I’d still go back to you. Every time. I was thinking too much about how I didn’t want you to go… I didn’t want to kiss you goodbye— I wanted to kiss you good night— and there’s a lot of difference. You were a boy that just screamed, “danger” at first sight and your smile was almost as perfectly curved as the crescent moon in the sky. Your hands felt like silk but gripped my hips like vices, and your mouth tasted like something sweet and lip balm, and when I caught sight of the purple marks you left on my neck in the mirror later, my stomach churned at the sudden thought of you disappearing from my life.

“I just wanted more time— that’s all I fucking wanted. I wanted more pictures, more laughs, more words, more memories. I wanted more of you. I want all of you. I want to go on adventures with you. I want to drop you off and pick you up at the airport. I want to stay up all night with you and spend the next day more awake than if I had slept. I want the small notes. I want your sassiness and your happiness. I want your— your brattiness and your sarcasm and even your fucking _silence_. My mouth hasn’t shut up about you since you kissed it. The idea that you may kiss it again is rooted in my brain, which hasn’t stopped thinking about you since, well, before even any kiss. And now the possibility of those kisses seems to wind me like when you slip on the stairs and one of the steps hits you in the middle of the back— fuck, I’m so stoned, oh Jesus fucking Christ on a bike, what am I saying— you weren’t supposed to… No, I wasn’t supposed to tell you this, but then again— fuck, man…

“Oh, Jacks— you should be here, next to me, pulling me as close as physically possible because that’s not even close to being enough to satisfy the need to be near to you. The sound of your— your breathing, your heartbeat as you fall to sleep can replace any rain storm, any Spotify playlist, any fan setting to lull me to sleep because nothing is more comforting than knowing that you’re alive and blood is pumping through your body and you’re fingers can lace into mine for at least that night. The more I think of you, the more I believe in real love. Real uninhibited, unconditional, fucking sexy love. I can only have it with you. I only want it with you… You are probably baffled and have no idea what to fucking say. That’s— fine. That’s normal, yes. All I want to— all I want to know is if you have feelings for me? It doesn’t have to be love on any level! I mean— but are there any romantic feelings there at all? I just want a straightforward answer. Just a yes or a— or a no. Fuck. I don’t want any explanations or excuses. Just a yes or a no. Either way, it doesn’t matter because I want to be your friend first, and if at all possible, your best friend. Because I believe that’s one of the most important things in a relationship of any kind. It should be based on friendship. So, what’s your answer? Yes or no?—”

Shaking slightly, the hand that holds his phone pressed against his ear falls to his side, and Namjoon closes his eyes.

_Beep_

_Beep_

_Beep_

_Beep_

_Beep_

_Beep…_

_Click._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what happened????? >:]
> 
> i am Suffering, but at least joon finally admitted everything!!!!!!! it got a bit out of hand lol who'd've guessed i had a romantic bone in my body!!!! i hope y'all like the update and don't hate me too much for leaving it hanging there hehe
> 
> here's to hoping the next chapter allows itself to be written without too many struggles lol ♥


	16. Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am a dumbass,” Namjoon states, simply.  
> “Big mood,” groans Jeongguk, grimacing as he smacks his lips and rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes with the back of his hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!!!!!!!!!

Namjoon wakes Jeongguk up at 7 a.m. in a whirlwind of panic and stress.

“Jeongguk. Jeonggukkie. Gukkie, Guk,” he chants, slapping the boy’s bicep repeatedly to wake him up.

“Whu—”

“I am a dumbass,” Namjoon states, simply.

“Big mood,” groans Jeongguk, grimacing as he smacks his lips and rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes with the back of his hand. “Why the fuck did I smoke so much last night. Why. Why am I so stupid, hyung. Can you answer me? You _know_ stuff, right? Why did I do it.”

“Uh.”

“You’re so right, hyung,” nods Jeongguk, as if Namjoon has just given him the answer to all the questions of the universe. “You’re always fucking right. ‘S why I admire you so much, y’ know? You’re the fucking shit, hyung.”

Namjoon flinches when Jeongguk punches his shoulder in what must be meant as a friendly bro-punch but will most likely end up giving him a shiner the size of a plate on his skin.

“Always know what to say,” mutters Jeongguk, nodding off again before Namjoon stops rubbing his own arm and shakes the younger boy by his shoulders to wake him up again.

“Gukkie! Listen to me,” he says, frantically. “I need you to do me a huge favour and just— just fucking kill me. Please? I’m fucking begging you, what the _shit_ —”

“What.”

“C’mon, please. Just fucking end my life,” Namjoon presses, still rattling the boy’s shoulders. “I _promise_ I won’t be mad. I mean— it’d be pretty counterproductive to be mad at you for doing something I’m explicitly asking you to do, but— c’mon, you know what I mean! It’s—”

“What is happening?” Jeongguk tries to understand, looking in amazement at Namjoon, hands grabbing the older boy’s wrists to stop him from further shaking him like a Polaroid. “What in the ever-loving hell is happening?”

“Can’t you just do me this tiny little favour? Please? Don’t you love me, Guk?”

“It’s _because_ I love you that I’m asking what the absolute shit is going on, hyung! How can me killing you possibly be the only solution you have thought of?”

Namjoon is now lying flat on his tummy on the mattress, wailing in despair at the suggestion of thinking of something else.

“Skipping countries and starting over in another place is just too much fucking work,” he laments, shaking his head. “Faking my own death, too. Not practical at all, nu-huh, no siree. ‘Ve calculated the other options. Just not good enough—”

“Still,” interrupts Jeongguk, covering his nose instead of his mouth as he yawns widely. “Doesn’t me killing you sound a little bit… I dunno, maybe too drastic? Like, hyung, I’m sure it’ll be alright—”

“You don’t even know what happened, Guk!”

“Well, tell me, then?”

“…”

“Maybe I can help. I promise I’ll kill you if, at the end of your report, it still sounds like the best option to you, OK?”

Namjoon nods, and sighs, messing his hair up even further as he continuously runs his hands through it. “So. Last night, right? High as a kite, late as fuck. You went to bed, I had to look for my phone in case Seokjin-hyung texted me from his date— fuck, I don’t even know if he got home, _shit_.”

“He texted me, no worries, he’s okay and he got laid— I think. I’m not very good at deciphering all these emoji’s, but I’m guessing the tongue and the drops of… something… are a good sign,” says Jeongguk, his own phone in his hand and a slight frown on his face. “Continue your story,” he solemnly says, locking his phone and putting it away.

“Right… so, anyways. I get my phone, yes, and then I— I think I just stand in the middle of the living room without doing anything? Yeah, so, I have a snapchat from Jacks, right? So I get this very annoying, uncontrollable urge to just— just call him, to hear his voice, to tell him I miss him. So I call him, it goes over, and then to voicemail after like, a minute or so? At first, I think— okay, maybe it’s a sign, right? Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this, and _this_ is the second chance the universe is giving my dumb, pathetic ass. But! Then I think – and for some reason or another my high self decides is the best idea I’ve ever had, don’t ask me why because I don’t know either – that _perhaps_ the call going to voicemail is the best option, right? Because then I can just— spill my guts without anyone interrupting, wear my heart on my sleeve for once and just bite the bullet, wear my big-boy pants and confess to Jacks how I’m feeling.”

Jeongguk is listening with twinkly eyes and his mouth hanging slightly open, contrasting almost comically with Namjoon’s own wild eyes and flushed cheeks.

“So, I call him back, right? But my dumb ass doesn’t even wait till the usual monotonous voice announces voicemail, and there’s where your boy fucks up bigger and better than anyone has previously fucked up in this world, _ever_ ,” Namjoon says, emphasising his daring statement with his hands, gesticulating wildly.

“What happened then?” Jeongguk asks, as fascinated as his eyes are big, clearly invested in the story.

“Right. So I don’t wait for the voice, and just start speaking. And I’m not gonna tell you exactly what I said, but it can be reduced to me admitting I might be a little more than a bit in love with him, basically,” Namjoon ignores the other boy’s sharp inhale, and continues: “So, that’s that, and it’s all peachy and nice and I’m feeling self-satisfied because even if I just puked out a full-blown confession, I’m willing to bet like, 5 thousand won that it was somewhat coherent. I’m sort of amazed at myself that I said something intelligible even though I was high off my ass, not gonna lie there.”

“I still don’t see the urgency of your death wish, hyung.”

“Och, shut up, Guk, I’m still not finished.”

“Oh, really.”

“I swear to god—”

“You were saying?”

“Oh, of course, right. So I go to sleep, feeling— surprisingly okay, to be honest, and then, suddenly, I wake up and realize… Realize it wasn’t fucking voicemail, what the _shit_.”

“Wait, hold on a minute… Are you telling me that everything you said last night to what you thought was Jack-hyung’s voicemail, you actually said…?”

“To Jackson himself? Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Namjoon deadpans, swallowing hard. He licks his cracked lips, and sighs once, deeply. “See now why I’m asking you to just— obliterate me from this goddamn existence?”

“Sort of…” Jeongguk answers lightly, the corners of his mouth starting to curl up in a mischievous smile.

“What do you mean ‘sort of’?” Namjoon yells as he sits up, offended. He expected sympathy from the boy, some words of encouragement and a one-way ticket to the afterlife, and now he gets _this_? He narrows his eyes menacingly at Jeongguk, fighting off a pout. “This is a disaster of the biggest calibre, what the shit, kid? Is that the only thing you have to say?”

“I mean… Maybe it’s not the worst that could’ve happened?”

“Oh, really.”

“ _Yes_. You could’ve called the wrong number and confessed your very gay feelings to some— some sleazy disgusting dude. Or a lovely old lady, or, or—”

Namjoon shudders at the thought, and begrudgingly admits Jeongguk’s right.

“Exactly! So, now that you have admitted how you feel, you’ve kicked the ball to the other court, and it’s now Jack-hyung’s move,” declares Jeongguk, crossing his arms defiantly.

“But what if he doesn’t feel the same? What if, oh god, he hates me now?,” Namjoon pales at the thought.

“If he doesn’t feel the same, which I very much doubt, then so be it. And if he’d hate you just because you’re in love with him, he’d be a piece of shit and definitely not worth your feelings, attention, and least of all your time. Luckily, he’s a good person, so that’s not something that’s going to happen, hyung. Don’t worry. Has he said anything since then?”

“I haven’t…”

“You haven’t checked,” Jeongguk groans, and steals Namjoon’s phone from his hands where the older boy had been twirling the thing between his long fingers.

With a triumphant little smirk, Jeongguk types something on Namjoon’s phone and quickly throws it onto the end of the bed (where it bounces safely) before standing up and running towards the front door.

“Bye, hyungie! Good luck!” the boy yells, grabbing his shoes from where they’d been kicked the previous evening and exiting the flat with a loud laugh.

Confused and with a growing sense of doom growing in his tummy, Namjoon unlocks his phone and looks horrified at the screen.

“JEON JEONGGUK!” he roars.

There, on his screen, five text massages mock his entire existence.

 

**Jacks** **[04:56]**

when is it okay to go someone’s house in the morning

**Darling** **♥ [07:24]**

When they’re awake and you’ve checked?

**Jacks [07:24]**

brilliant. Are you awake?

**Darling** **♥ [07:25]**

Yeh

**Jacks [07:25]**

good. Omw

***

Two minutes later and Namjoon is cursing the expensiveness of last-minute flights to the Bahamas.

 

Five minutes later and Namjoon has brushed his teeth and given up on trying to tame his hair, but at least he’s changed clothes.

 

Seven minutes later and Namjoon has sent 23 text messages to Jeongguk yelling and making sure the kid knows he’s been officially removed from Namjoon’s will and therefore won’t receive anything from his inheritance.

 

Ten minutes later and Namjoon has had to pee twice and now he isn’t sure whether locking himself up in the bathroom is a respectable option.

 

Fifteen minutes later and the doorbell rings, and all thoughts flee Namjoon’s mind.

***

It’s the doorbell ringing for the third time that wakes Namjoon up from his stupor and urges him to move from where he’s standing in the middle of the living room (god, he’s starting to feel like a Sim out of control) to go open the door.

Inhaling deeply and mustering all his courage, he braces himself and… opens the door.

And there stands Jackson.

They blink at each other; neither says anything.

Namjoon takes advantage of the time-out and takes in Jackson’s appearance. His hair is mussed-up, his red-rimmed eyes bloodshot and droopy, and he looks a little bit too pale for comfort. He’s unshaven and it seems like he just threw on some random clothes in a rather haphazardly way, judging from the stains on the collar of his hoodie. (Namjoon is sure he himself doesn’t look any better, knows he probably looks even worse for wear; because, despite Jackson’s exhausted-looking appearance, he still is gorgeous, and the shadow of his perennial smile still ghosts around the corners of his lips).

“Hi,” Namjoon breathes out, and suddenly Jackson’s _right there_.

Leaning in, he fists Namjoon’s sweater in both hands and brushes his cheek against Namjoon’s, nosing all along the cheekbone with a soft sigh. He lays gentle, teasing kisses on a path to his ear. There, he holds Namjoon in a tight embrace and just breathes ever so softly, raising goose bumps, coaxing Namjoon’s skin into a whole body shiver.

Namjoon’s hands find their place, too, skimming the waistband of Jackson’s jeans, fingers splaying to warm skin and fitting into perfect dimples low down. He tightens his arms for a brief, intense moment, just breathing in and storing up all this wonder. When he steps back, they’re both pink-cheeked and wound up.

“Did you mean it,” Jackson says urgently, cradling Namjoon’s face with both his hands, looking deeply into his eyes, and Namjoon’s breath just—

stops.

“What?” he manages to say, voice husky and mouth suddenly as dry as Yoongi’s humour before his first cup of coffee in the morning.

“What you said to me last night, Joon-ah, did you mean it! I need to know. Please. Please tell me if you meant it or not.”

“I—” Looking into Jackson’s eyes, Namjoon feels the familiar stampeding wildebeests in his tummy, and he decides to just— fuck it. “Yes. Fuck, yes, I meant every single fucking word, goddammit. Every single fucking word, Jacks. I’m sorry it took me so long to muster up the courage to fucking tell you.”

“Darling,” Jackson exhales.

And suddenly, they’re kissing.

They’re kissing now, and not even the really hot and heavy stuff, just the kind that makes you feel that someone’s completely incredulous about how lucky they are to get to touch you like that.

Namjoon’s not really anything special. It’s always felt the other way around when he kissed someone; he’s not sure he entirely likes this. He feels terribly out of his depth.

But there’s an arm around his waist, and it’s so easy, so nice to just sink into that hold and let someone who wants to shield him from the ugliness of the world do so for a short while. Just for a bit. A gift of a delusion, tiny and sweet, from a man who is maybe not _everything_ to Namjoon, but certainly _a lot_.

It doesn’t stay chaste for long, and when they finally break apart, open mouthed and panting, Namjoon rests their temples together, still laying kisses in the corner of Jackson’s smile. He can’t wait to hear the sound of his own name in Jackson’s voice again, to see that mouth wrapped around its syllables.

“Stop thinking.” Namjoon chuckles when Jackson mumbles against his ear.

“So now you’re a mind reader too, huh?”

“You’re nervous,” Jackson says and moves away a little before pulling him along. He goes with it until they’re on Namjoon’s bed and Namjoon lays his head on Jackson’s chest and places his left hand on Jackson’s shoulder, tucking it right under his cheek, feeling his heart beat under it.

“Just— thinking about everything.”

“Don’t, darling,” the blond boy groans, poking his side playfully, kissing his temple. “‘S way too early for that.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “Would you kindly shut the fuck up?” he murmurs, his lips pressing against Namjoon’s temple again, and Namjoon smirks.

“Make me.”

Without a thought, Jackson cups his cheek and pulls him into a scorching kiss. His right leg is trapped between Namjoon’s, and Namjoon thrusts up against him making a content growl rumble in Jackson’s chest.

Namjoon gasps, sweet and pretty, and twitches when the other boy pushes his hand under his shirt and scrapes the sensitive skin of his side with his nails. Namjoon breathes out a low moan when he kisses down his cheek, all the way to his neck.

“Jacks—” he whisper-gasps when the other boy racks up Namjoon’s shirt, slipping his hand across his stomach, making muscles flex under his fingertips. The air around them becomes increasingly hazy and thick with heat and Namjoon groans when he bites lightly on the junction of his neck and shoulder.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jackson murmurs and Namjoon freezes. He can’t help it. He’s done this before, fallen into something with someone who only wants this, only wants something physical. “So beautiful,” Jackson says again, tilting Namjoon’s face up so he’s looking at Jackson. “You’re smart and fun and silly and you’re even a bigger dork than I am. Everyone likes you, darling. I like you. So much.”

“Yeah?” Namjoon croaks out.

“So much,” Jackson whispers.

Namjoon can hear his own heart beating loudly in his ears. He is feeling hot. So, so hot. It feels like he’s drowning. Drowning in Jackson’s scent; drowning in Jackson’s warmth.

***

Namjoon kisses the small of Jackson’s back before moving off the bed. He goes to the bathroom and Jackson can hear water running. He turns over, places his hands above his head, and waits for Namjoon to come back.

The washcloth Namjoon lays on him feels like sandpaper. Jackson grits his teeth as Namjoon wipes the last of his come away. His over sensitized skin protests even the six hundred thread count sheets he’s lying on.

Namjoon lies down next to him. His eyes are bright again. He smiles softly at Jackson but keeps his hands to himself. Jackson is the first to say anything.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says to the ceiling, feeling simultaneously out of it and hyperaware. “I want us to be a real thing.”

“Yeah?” Namjoon asks.

Jackson turns onto his side, curling an arm under a pillow and resting his cheek against it. “I mean it. I want this—” he gestures to Namjoon and himself, “—to be long-term.”

“Oh, really,” Namjoon deadpans. There’s a trace, just a trace, of unsteadiness in his voice.

“Yes,” Jackson tells him. He leans over and covers Namjoon’s mouth with his own. He lets the kiss linger, savouring the way Namjoon follows when he starts to pull away. “I want to be with you, you idiot. Not just hooking up at parties or spending the night together when we get the chance. I want to know you’re mine and I—” Jackson sucks in a breath. “—I want to be yours, too.”

One of Namjoon’s eyebrows arches.

(Jackson remembers one lazy morning, one particular morning where he’d slunk away from Namjoon’s room and made his way to the kitchen to steal a muffin or something before going back to his own flat. He’d bumped into Hoseok there, who’d been chipper and bright-eyed, and very likely still stoned from the previous night. Something that Hoseok had mentioned that morning still lingers in Jackson’s mind up to this day, something along the lines of _eyebrows are, essentially, the window to a person’s soul_. Hoseok had mentioned it very seriously, continuing with _at least this much is true when it comes to Joonie’s soul, whose eyebrows are the most expressive thing about his face. Mostly used to make people feel bad about themselves._ Jackson can see now where Hoseok had gotten his theory from).

Jackson’s known him too long not to see the apprehension threaded through that gesture, like he thinks Jackson’s making some sort of perverted joke. _Ha, ha, got you, we've been having sex for ages but it’s still only your body I want, not you as a human being, sucks to be you!_

Jackson hasn’t many regrets, but he’s having them now. Because he did this to them, albeit unconsciously. He’s the one who made Namjoon doubt every second of their relationship and rely instead on hope borne out of brief glances and encouraging words from his friends, that Jackson might actually want to be with him.

“Are you sure?” Namjoon asks. Because he needs to know, needs to be certain, needs Jackson to _mean_ it.

“Of course, I’m sure,” Jackson snaps and, oh, that’s not the way he wants to go about this but it’s the way he’s going to. “You think I’d say I was if I weren’t?” He pokes Namjoon in the chest with a finger. “I want to be with you, Joon-ah. I want you to hold my hand and tell me you fucking love me and I want to maybe grow old with you. I’m not so sure on that last part but, in case you haven’t noticed, we’ve kind of been dating for a fucking while now.” Namjoon opens his mouth to slip a word in and Jackson slaps a hand over it. “No, don’t you interrupt me. We have absolutely been dating. We just didn’t put a name on it. This—” Jackson points to himself with his free hand, “—is me putting a name on it. You and me, Joon-ah, we’re dating. It’s official. So don’t you get all self-conscious on me and act like this isn’t long overdue.”

“You are the worst,” Namjoon says. Which is a big fat lie. Namjoon’s met truly terrible people. Jackson can be annoying, a little bit of an asshole, and a whole lot of a dick, but he’s never been anything other than lovely to Namjoon and the people around them. And Namjoon is difficult and pretty assholish himself, so for Jackson to break down those barriers, he’s got to have a few redeemable qualities.

Jackson’s heart is beating too hard. It’s a lot of honesty very fast, and honesty, real, earth-shaking, soul-quaking honesty, isn’t something he’s good at. For a moment, he thinks Namjoon might actually say something contradictory.

But then he smiles.

Namjoon is breath-taking when he smiles.

***

Namjoon realises there’s two extremes when it comes to being kissed by Jackson:

One’s intense, desperate, hungry, breathless, heart-pumping, speeding-down-an-empty-highway-after-midnight making out, like he wants to know every part of Namjoon, like he wants to crawl inside his skin, like he wants him to never forget the taste and feel of him.

The other is the softest, sweetest, slowest, most lingering kisses imaginable, like Jackson wants to lavish affection on him, like he wants to be so careful and gentle with him, like he wants to show him how much he means to Jackson, like he wants it to last forever.

And Namjoon loves both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is coming to an end :> ♥


	17. Chat: Loser Line 2.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> official yoonbooty eater changed the chatname to Lover Line OG

**_Chat: Loser Line 2.0_ **

**smol & bitter**: allow me to be the first to gloat and say “i told y’all so”

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : HELL YEHA BABE

 **dead and buried** : what happened??

 **TaeTae** : wAZZUP

 **HO HO HO seokkie** : wait,,, why s my name sti ll christmassy

 **SeokjinFTW** : fill us in

 **SeokjinFTW** : spill the tea

 **TaeTae** : :O

**_HO HO HO seokkie_ ** **changed their username to _YODELLING IN HAPPINESS_**

**TaeTae** : lolololololol

 **smol & bitter**: whatever

 **smol & bitter**: can we please focus on the good news

 **dead and buried** : wHICH IS???,

 **YODELLING IN HAPPINESS** : oH RIGTH

 **YODELLING IN HAPPINESS** : JAKCSON IS HERE

 **YODELLING IN HAPPINESS** : WIH JOONIE

 **dead and buried** : why is your happiness so

 **dead and buried** : oveRWHELMING

**_smol & bitter_ ** **changed _dead and buried_ ’s nickname to _spoilsport_**

**YODELLING IN HAPPINESS** : <3333333 **_@smol & bitter_**

 **spoilsport** : :////

 **TaeTae** : lololololol

**_spoilsport_ ** **changed _TaeTae_ ’s nickname to _trAITOR_**

**trAITOR** : D:

 **SeokjinFTW** : pls **_@smol & bitter_** dont leave us hanging

**_will defend Yoongi-hyung in exchange for lamb skewers_ ** **changed their username to _Confused but intrigued_**

**smol & bitter**: right

 **smol & bitter**: they made up

 **smol & bitter**: and are currently making out

 **smol & bitter**: last i saw, at least

 **YODELLING IN HAPPINESS** : has probs escalated by noww

 **Confused but intrigued** : FINALLY

 **spoilsport** : GOD BLESS

 **trAITOR** : lololololololol

 **trAITOR** : tha t makes ma happy

 **SeokjinFTW** : so who got their head out their ass first?

 **Confused but intrigued** : About that…

 **smol & bitter**: guk, what do you know about this????

 **trAITOR** : :O

 **spoilsport** : jzefndjkndkqndq wHAT?

 **SeokjinFTW** : speak, kiddo

 **YODELLING IN HAPPINESS** : :<

 **Confused but intrigued** : Welllllllllllllll

 **spoilsport** : we’re wAITING

 **Confused but intrigued** : So Joon-hyung and I got really fucking high last night, right?

 **smol & bitter**: what

 **spoilsport** : what

 **SeokjinFTW** : what

 **YODELLING IN HAPPINESS** : waht

 **trAITOR** : nICE

 **Confused but intrigued** : :^)

 **Confused but intrigued** : So apparently, after I dragged my ass to bed, Joonie-hyung went to look for his phone

 **YODELLING IN HAPPINESS** : lmaooooo hed lost his phonee agaian what a dork

 **smol & bitter**: sounds like joonah alright heh

 **trAITOR** : :’)

 **Confused but intrigued** : So idek how it happened, but hyung ended up calling Jackson-hyung

 **Confused but intrigued** : And somehow didn’t realize it wasn’t voicemail

 **spoilsport** omg

 **Confused but intrigued** : And he spilled his guts

 **YODELLING IN HAPPINESS** : HAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA

 **SeokjinFTW** : i aint even surprised tbh

 **trAITOR** : i luv him <33333333

**_SeokjinFTW_ ** **changed their username to _SeokjINCREDIBLY PROUD_**

**smol & bitter**: haha pun haha

 **smol & bitter**: (; ⌣̀_⌣́)

 **SeokjINCREDIBLY PROUD** : shut up, midget

 **spoilsport** : *gasps*

 **smol & bitter**: fucking make me

 **SeokjINCREDIBLY PROUD** : ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 **YODELLING IN HAPPINESS** : HANDSS OFF WHATS MINE BIH

 **SeokjINCREDIBLY PROUD** : heh

**_Confused but intrigued_ ** **changed their username to _WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON_**

**WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON** : WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON

 **trAITOR** : rlly kookie

 **smol & bitter**: are you fucking kidding me

 **spoilsport** : *face palm*

 **SeokjINCREDIBLY PROUD** : so who’s gonna tell him

 **WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON** : TELL ME WHAT

 **smol & bitter**: bitch is you blind?!

 **trAITOR** : lolololololololololol

 **YODELLING IN HAPPINESS** : wait lemme just,,

**_YODELLING IN HAPPINESS_ ** **changed their username to _official yoonbooty eater_**

**spoilsport** : nice

 **trAITOR** : ngl imm sorta jealous of hobi hyugn

 **official yoonbooty eater** : feel free t o join whenevr

 **trAITOR** : :D

 **spoilsport** : :D

 **smol & bitter**: sEOK-AH NO

 **trAITOR** : D:

 **spoilsport** : now who’s being a spoilsport, oi, hyung?

 **official yoonbooty eater** : D:

 **SeokjINCREDIBLY PROUD** : oh, how im enjoying this lmao

 **smol & bitter**: …

 **official yoonbooty eater** : (｡-人-｡)

 **smol & bitter**: nO

 **trAITOR** : (｡-人-｡)\\(´._.`)

 **spoilsport** : there there hyungie don’t be sad

 **smol & bitter**: fUCK OKAY WHATEVER YOU WANT BABE DON’T POUT GODAMMIT

 **official yoonbooty eater** : °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

 **trAITOR** : :D TAHNKS YOONGI-HYUGN

 **spoilsport** : ;) it’ll be fun we promise

 **SeokjINCREDIBLY PROUD** : has anyone noticed how guk has just

 **SeokjINCREDIBLY PROUD** : vanished

 **smol & bitter**: great

 **smol & bitter**: you’ve scared him off

 **smol & bitter**: congratulations, assholes

 **WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON** : Uhm

 **trAITOR** : GUKKIEEEEE YOURE BACK

 **smol & bitter**: sorry about this, guk-ah

 **smol & bitter**: we didn’t mean to scar and/or scare you

 **WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON** : Uhm

 **smol & bitter**: you broke him, kids

 **smol & bitter**: happy now???

 **official yoonbooty eater** : D:

 **WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON** : Ah, no, no, don’t worry

 **WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON** : I just wanted to ask…

 **SeokjINCREDIBLY PROUD** : this is gonna b good i can feel it

 **WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON** : CANIJOINTOOPLEASE??

 **WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON** : Okay, good talk, see you later, my goldfish drowned bYE

 **trAITOR** : lolololololololololol

 **smol & bitter**: adhgqksdgq lfj qkfqks

 **spoilsport** : HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH

 **official yoonbooty eater** : OFC **_@WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON_** UR MORE TAHN  WELCOME

 **SeokjINCREDIBLY PROUD** : dont  u mean well cum* :^)

 **smol & bitter**: dfgdfgdfgd

 **spoilsport** : tHIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE

 **spoilsport** : I FUCKING LOVE Y’ALL

 **official yoonbooty eater** : imma check up on my baby 2 see if hes ok

 **official yoonbooty eater** : but frist

**_official yoonbooty eater_ ** **changed the chatname to _Lover Line OG_**

**trAITOR** : lololololololol

 **SeokjINCREDIBLY PROUD** : can i add then the members of my harem, or

 **trAITOR** : *chokes*

 **spoilsport** : (◡‿◡✿)

 **official yoonbooty eater** : hwo manyy r we talking about

 **SeokjINCREDIBLY PROUD** : :^)

 **SeokjINCREDIBLY PROUD** : i’m a firm believer of the sayin

 **SeokjINCREDIBLY PROUD** : the more the merrier

 **SeokjINCREDIBLY PROUD** : so :^)

 **spoilsport** : oh boy

 

 

 

 

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : Guys, I’m back!

 **dimples so deep they’re full of secrets** : What did I miss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last chapter, and the next one is the epilogue :') i'll keep this author note short and make an extensive one with the next update :)))
> 
> anyways, i hope you enjoyed this story, and i want to thank each and every one of you readers (and commentators, especially the loveliest commentators i could've wished for) for giving me motivation to end my first fic on this website :') ♥♥♥


	18. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.
> 
>  
> 
> (of this story. Not of them. Obviously).

**Jacks** **♥** **[15:21]**

hey

hey

hey

hey

hey

darling

**Darling** **♥** **[15:25]**

I’M IN CLASS, YOU ASSHAT

WHAT IS IT

**Jacks** **♥ [15:26]**

heh i know lololol

nothing

i love you, boyfriend

**Darling** **♥ [15:26]**

I fucking love you too

**Jacks ♥ [15:27]**

gASP

SAY IT BACK, EGGBOY

**Darling ♥ [15:28]**

Boyfriend **♥**

**Jacks ♥ [15:29]**

better

**♥**

**Darling ♥ [15:29]**

ALSO WHO ARE YOU CALLING EGGBOY, YOU LILIPUTIAN

**Jacks ♥ [15:30]**

D:

but u still love me, right?

despite my short legs lolololol

**Darling ♥ [15:31]**

Of course I do

**Jacks ♥ [15:32]**

:D

**Darling ♥ [15:32]**

BUT I’M STILL IN CLASS AGHFDQGF

BYE TTYL **♥**

**Jacks ♥ [15:33]**

bye bye boyfriend~

**♥**

(Jackson is just completely enamoured by the fact that Namjoon is his boyfriend. He feels like a giddy kid in a candy store 24/7. At every possible organic way he openly states that his _boyfriend_ is an awesome person or his _boyfriend_ is a cuddler. Their friends all roll their eyes, but go along with it because the way Jackson smiles around the word is brighter than any smile they can remember on his face. Namjoon gets flustered about the fact that Jackson will practically scream _boyfriend_ at anyone, especially waiters and bartenders, wherever they go).

(It’s— nice).

(Every time _Namjoon_ says the word, Jackson looks at him with the most adoration that a pair of eyes can hold and Namjoon wants to hold onto that look until his dying breath).

 

 

 

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, this has been a wild ride! a bit messy, a bit of healthy suffering, more angst than intended, but all good, right? i mean, at least it has been that way for me. once again, thank you all so much for reading this story ♥  
> thank you to all the people who've left kudos.  
> thank you to all the people who commented when this was still a wip in my laptop. seriously, i probably wouldn't have finished this without your comments lololol a bit of encouragement goes a long way! ♥
> 
> and a special shout-out to Wolfi ♥ i'm glad to have met you~ :]
> 
> this is the end of 'a rehearsed preamble to inevitable orgasms'. i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it ♥♥♥
> 
> till next time!!! i have some ideas for other stories, so maybe we'll meet again lololol
> 
> come yell at me on twitter on [here](https://twitter.com/yellingukelele)  
> also, i'm pretty active in tumblr rip hahah [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/child-in-the-dark)
> 
> byebye!~ ♥♥♥


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